University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


tv  caa.  umaa.  us 


SYLVIA   STOOD   A   MOMENT   LOST   IN   THOUGHT. 

Frontispiece, 


p.  92 


THE    LURE 


BY 


GEORGE   SCARBOROUGH 


ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM 
SCENES  IN  THE  PLAY 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT.  1914,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


The  L^e 


Frew  of 
J.  J.  Little  A  Ire*  Co. 

New  York 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACE 

1 7 

II 16 

III 29 

IV 43 

V 66 

VI 80 

VII 93 

VIII 115 

IX 131 

X 149 

XI 164 

XII 177 

XIII 193 

XIV 204 

XV 217 

XVI 232 

XVII 246 

XVIII .    291 


21326SO 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACT 

Sylvia  stood  a  moment  lost  in  thought    .     .     .     Frontispiece      92 
"  No  harm  has  ever  come  to  me,  mother,  has  it  ?"       ...      91 

"A  hundred  dollars  means,  to  me,  my  mother's  life;  and  to 

get  it — I'll  do  anything,  anything ! " 163 

"  You  are  going  to  forget  you  ever  had  a  name  or  a  home  or 

a  mother " 242 

"Get  out  of  my  way  there!    This  girl  is  going  with  me ".      .     270 

Paul  turned  on  him  venomously.    "My  pals  '11  get  you  for 

this!" 289 


THE   LURE 

CHAPTER   I 

THERE  was  something-  unusual  about  her  eyes. 
MacAuley  realized  that  the  first  time  that 
he  ever  met  her;  and  yet  to  save  his  life  he 
never  could  explain  their  particular  peculiarity  to 
himself.    They  were  the  eyes  of  a  very  pretty  girl, 
for    Sylvia   was   an  exceedingly  pretty  girl.     As 
pretty  as  any  in  all  the  rank  and  file  of  the  big  de- 
partment store. 

Long  before  he  even  came  to  know  that  her  name 
was  Sylvia — and  that  didn't  happen  until  she  had 
been  enshrined  in  his  heart  for  several  months, 
those  eyes  of  hers  and  the  potency  of  them  worried 
him  night  and  day.  This  was  proved  that  first  day 
of  all  when  he  saw  her  at  the  silk  stocking  counter. 
It  was  immediately  after  that  chance  glimpse  of  her 

that   Bob    MacAuley   committed   an   idiosyncrasy 

7 


8  THE    LURE 


which  continued  to  amaze  him  all  the  rest  of  his 
life.  Why  he  did  it  he  never  knew.  And  what  he 
did  was  this :  after  catching  his  one  fleeting  glimpse 
of  Sylvia  he  walked  deliberately  out  of  the  shop 
and  across  the  street  to  a  jeweler's  shop.  There 
were  a  number  of  silver  photograph  frames  in  the 
window.  He  looked  them  over  carefully.  All  of 
them,  save  one,  contained  photographs  of  actresses. 
This  single  empty  frame  caught  his  eye  and  al- 
lured him  very  much  as  Sylvia's  deep  eyes  had  done 
a  few  moments  before. 

He  went  into  the  shop  and  asked  to  be  shown  the 
frame.  They  brought  it  to  him.  "How  much  is 
it?"  he  asked  the  salesman.  "Forty-six  dollars," 
was  the  answer.  "Wrap  it  up,"  said  MacAuley,  as 
he  dug  down  into  his  clothes.  He  carried  the  pic- 
ture frame  home  with  him  and  placed  it  on  the 
mantelpiece  in  the  "den"  of  his  Harlem  bachelor 
apartment.  Then  leaning  his  arm  on  the  mantel- 
piece he  apostrophized  it  as  though  it  were  an  old 
friend.  Of  course,  MacAuley  could  never  have 
done  this  if  he  had  possessed  a  sense  of  humor,  but 


THE    LURE 


humor  was  one  of  the  things  in  which  he  was  in- 
ordinately lacking,  and  then  he  said:  "I  wonder 
which  of  us  looks  the  bigger  fool — me  looking  into 
your  empty  face  or  you  looking  blankly  at  me  with 
nothing  but  the  filigree  work  on  the  edge  of  you  to 
make  an  impression  ?  But  we  might  as  well  get  ac- 
quainted here  and  now,  because  we  have  got  to  see 
this  thing  through  together.  It  may  take  a  long 
time,  so  we  may  just  as  well  get  acquainted  with 
each  other.  There  is  never  going  to  be  any  picture 
in  you  but  one,  and  that's  the  face  of  the  girl  at  the 
silk-stocking  counter. 

"Damn  it !"  he  exclaimed  abruptly,  hitting  his  fist 
on  the  edge  of  the  mantelpiece,  "you  might  as  well 
know  the  whole  truth  at  once.  I  am  going  to  marry 
that  girl.  I  don't  even  know  her  name,  but  she  has 
got  to  marry  me  just  the  same,  and  you  have  got  to 
stand  there  empty  and  vacant  until  I  have  won  her. 
It  may  take  years,  but  some  day  she'll  be  in  that 
frame. 

And,  so  saying,  MacAuley  turned  from  the  photo- 


10  THE    LURE 


graph  frame  and,  feeling  distinctly  ashamed  of  his 
sentimental  soliloquy,  promptly  went  to  bed. 

But  not  to  sleep,  for  that  night,  and  for  many 
another,  he  was  haunted  by  Sylvia's  eyes.  At  times 
he  felt  like  kicking  himself.  The  experience  was 
new  for  a  detective,  high  in  the  good  graces  of  the 
Department  of  Justice,  whose  work  in  the  course 
of  a  single  year  had  thrown  him  in  contact  with  a 
more  motley  and  varied  assortment  of  women  than 
were  encountered  by  the  average  man  in  the  course 
of  a  lifetime,  and  yet,  what  was  the  use,  here  he  was, 
madly  in  love  with  a  girl  whom  he  had  seen  only 
once,  and  whose  name  he  didn't  even  know.  It 
wasn't  a  case  of  looking  forward  to  some  mild  flirta- 
tion with  her  when  he  met  her.  From  that  first  mo- 
ment he  had  known  one  thing  absolutely.  That 
was,  that  this  girl  was  to  be  his  wife.  "I  have 
known  all  sorts  of  women,"  he  said  to  himself  one 
night  as  he  lay  in  bed,  "and  I  am  about  as  good  a 
judge  of  feminine  character  as  most  men,  but  if 
ever  I  saw  purity  and  sweetness  and  tenderness 
symbolized  in  a  woman's  eyes — by  Jove!  If  I  had 


THE    LURE  11 


seen  that  woman  for  the  first  time  in  a  jail  or  in  a 
common  dance  hall  I  would  have  staked  my  life  that 
she  was  good  and  pure.  Why,  mother's  going  to 
love  that  girl,"  and  he  biffed  the  pillow  as  though 
it  had  presumed  to  contradict  him.  "I  can  just  see 
the  two  of  them  together.  What  pals  they'll  make, 
and  then,  later  on,  if  the  kiddies  came — oh,  gee 
whiz !  it's  too  good  to  think  about."  So  he  turned 
over  and  went  to  sleep,  but  in  the  morning,  with  his 
first  waking  thoughts,  the  girl  at  the  silk-stocking 
counter  and  his  mother  were  still  linked  in  his  mind. 
"That's  a  bully  idea,"  he  said  as  he  jumped  into  his 
bath.  "I'm  glad  I  thought  of  that.  Mother  loves 
silk  stockings,  and  I  haven't  sent  her  any  for  at 
least  a  year." 

Eleven  o'clock  found  him  at  the  store  again,  and 
three  days  later  his  mother  in  a  small  up-state  town 
was  amazed  to  receive,  without  any  explanation,  a 
dozen  pairs  of  black  silk  hose.  Sylvia  had  picked 
them  out  for  her  herself,  but,  unfortunately  for 
Bob,  their  acquaintance  had  not  taken  the  least  step 
forward.  She  had  treated  him  exactly  like  any 


THE    LURE 


other  customer,  but  deep  down  in  his  heart  Bob 
knew  that  he  had  made  a  very  good  impression. 
After  that,  at  short  intervals,  MacAuley  recalled 
various  aunts  of  his  whom  he  hadn't  even  thought 
of  in  years.  Now  he  suddenly  recollected  that  they 
doted  on  silk  stockings,  too;  so  each  of  them  in  due 
course  was  amazed  and  delighted  to  receive  an  un- 
expected Christmas  gift  from  their  nephew  Bob  in 
the  middle  of  summer.  The  short  note  of  explana- 
tion which  accompanied  each  of  these  gifts  really 
conveyed  nothing  to  these  ancient  ladies  beyond  the 
fact  that  Bob  always  was  a  dear  soul,  and  to  be 
able  to  dispense  such  charming  luxuries  he  must 
certainly  be  doing  well.  But  still  the  acquaintance 
went  no  further.  Sylvia  always  smiled  at  him  de- 
murely, modestly,  just  as  she  did  on  all  her  other 
regular  customers.  Once  he  even  spoke  about  the 
weather,  but  she  instantly  became  so  monosyllabic 
that  he  felt  distinctly  thwarted.  Finally  he  turned 
his  attention  to  Emma,  the  little  hunchback  who 
presided  at  the  glove  counter  just  across  the  aisle. 
Emma  was  an  institution  at  the  store.  Moreover, 


THE    LURE  13 


she  was  a  conversationalist.  She  and  Bob  soon  be- 
came great  friends.  It  was  through  Emma  that  he 
learned  eventually  that  his  idol's  first  name  was 
Sylvia,  and  that  the  remainder  of  her  cognomen 
was  Jones.  This  was  merely  a  particle  of  the  great 
fund  of  information  about  Sylvia  which  Emma 
poured  voluntarily  into  his  willing  ears.  For  one 
thing  Emma  assured  him  that  Sylvia  was  her  very 
dearest  friend,  and  when  Emma  said  that  it  meant 
something,  because  the  cheery  hearted  little  soul,  by 
her  bright  face  and  chirpy  little  manner,  had  won 
the  affection  of,  and  was  really  on  more  than  speak- 
ing terms  with  every  woman  in  the  city  who  was 
really  worth  knowing,  from  the  newest  Mrs.  Van- 
derbilt  to  Anna  Held  and  Gaby  Deslys.  Multimil- 
lionairesses  took  Emma  to  drive  in  their  motor  cars, 
and  one  very  famous  actress  always  wafted  her 
away  to  her  country  place  for  a  two  weeks'  rest  in 
the  summer  time.  Consequently,  when  Emma  as- 
sured MacAuley  that  Sylvia  was  the  dearest  girl 
she  knew  it  really  did  mean  something.  Bob  real- 
ized this  and  listened  to  her  with  profound  attention 


14  THE    LURE 


while  she  talked  to  him  of  Sylvia.  She  was  very, 
very  poor — Sylvia  was,  according  to  Emma,  and 
her  mother  was  a  great  invalid,  that  was  why  Sylvia 
never  went  anywhere;  why  she  never  had  a  good 
time  and  never  even  used  the  free  theater  tickets 
which  were  distributed  so  lavishly  throughout  the 
store  when  any  of  the  Broadway  managers  were  in 
need  of  audiences.  Sylvia  never  went  anywhere, 
and  Emma  thought  that  it  really  was  too  bad. 

And  then  there  came  a  day — a  day  that  MacAuley 
will  never  forget — the  day  that  he  caught  his  last 
glimpse  of  her.  He  had  entered  the  store,  intending 
to  buy  some  more  silk  stockings,  but  seeing  that 
Sylvia  was  busily  engrossed  with  a  lady  customer 
he  turned  away  and  chatted  with  Emma.  After- 
ward the  picture  of  the  woman  whom  Sylvia  was 
serving  stood  out  strongly  in  his  mind.  For  some 
reason  he  detested  her,  he  loathed  her.  She  was  a 
woman,  forty  perhaps,  very  plainly  dressed  in  a 
severe  but  well-cut  walking  suit,  and  as  he  last  saw 
her  she  was  leaning  across  the  counter  smiling  into 
Sylvia's  face  and  handing  her  a  visiting  card.  Mac- 


THE    LURE  15 


Auley  turned  and  left  the  store.  But  somehow 
after  that,  whenever  he  thought  of  Sylvia,  the  vision 
of  this  woman  seemed  to  rise  between  them  menac- 
ingly like  a  wraith.  The  next  time  that  he  dropped 
in  at  the  store  there  was  another  girl  in  Sylvia's 
place  at  the  silk  stocking  counter,  and  when  Mac- 
Auley  turned  to  Emma  for  information,  for  once, 
in  a  way,  the  little  hunchback  was  uncommunicative, 
almost  silent.  All  that  she  would  say  was  that  Miss 
Jones  had  left.  She  did  not  know  where  she  had 
gone  to — but  that  one  fact  was  enough  for  Bob. 
Sylvia  had  gone. 


CHAPTER   II 

"Tell  me  the  truth,  doctor,  I  want  to  know — I 
must  know  for  Sylvia's  sake  as  well  as  my  own. 
You  must  tell  me  the  truth  now."  The  sweet  face  of 
the  middle-aged  woman,  framed  in  its  prematurely 
gray  hair,  looked  pleadingly  into  Dr.  Goldberg's 
face.  "Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  said  the  doctor  evasive- 
ly, as,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back, 
he  walked  up  and  down  the  tenement  house  sitting 
room.  The  room  itself  fairly  shrieked  of  better 
days.  The  stamp  of  bitter  poverty  lay  over  it  all 
like  a  pall.  The  one  spot  of  color  left  in  the  room 
was  a  little  stand  filled  with  pots  of  geraniums  in 
full  bloom  which  stood  on  the  sill  of  the  fire  escape. 
There  had  been  pictures  on  the  wall  once,  you  could 
see  that  by  the  marks  upon  the  wall  paper,  but  they, 
like  the  old  family  sofa,  the  Davenport,  even  the 
writing  desk,  had  long  since  gone  to  the  pawnshop, 

and  the  doctor  himself,  save  for  his  cheery  disposi- 

16 


THE    LURE  17 


tion,  was  of  a  pattern  with  the  room.  He  was 
white-haired,  a  Hebrew  and  sixty.  His  clothes, 
though  neat,  were  shabby  and  worn,  but  the  twinkle 
in  his  eye  and  the  smile  which  his  face  wore  almost 
invariably  made  you  forget  all  about  his  clothes. 
Just  at  the  moment,  however,  the  doctor  was  far 
from  smiling.  His  heart  was  wrung  with  pity  for 
the  gentle  little  woman  who  was  trying  so  hard 
to  pin  him  down  to  the  brutal  facts. 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  he  repeated  again,  and 
then,  leaving  his  sentence  unfinished,  he  walked  to 
the  window  and  gazed  down  into  the  courtyard, 
where  hordes  of  foreign-looking  children  were 
shrieking  at  their  play. 

"Please,  now,  doctor,  I  am  quite  prepared  for 
the  worst.  I  am  not  afraid." 

The  doctor  turned  from  the  window  and  looked 
at  Mrs.  Jones  with  kindly,  wistful  eyes.  "Although 
the  world  is  full  of  liars,  there  are  but  few  of  us 
who  do  not  prefer  to  listen  to  the  truth.  Dot's  so, 
ain't  it,  Mrs.  Jones,  yes?" 

"But  you  promised  to  tell  me  the  truth  to-day." 


18  THE    LURE 


"I  tell  it  every  day,  my  dear;  that  is,  I  try  to.  Of 
course,  occasionally  a  man's  tongue  will  slip  shust 
like  his  foot,  or  his  grip  on  the  temperance  pledge." 

"Ah,  but,  doctor,"  interrupted  the  woman. 

"Slipping  too  often  is  very  bad  for  everybody," 
continued  the  doctor.  "Now,  I  used  to  know  a  man 
about  twenty  years  ago  who  couldn't  even  tell  the 
truth  without  lying.  He  was  the  worst " 

Mrs.  Jones  raised  her  hands  deprecatingly. 

"I  know  you  don't  want  to  tell  me,  but  I  want  to 
know,  and  I  am  prepared  to  know  the  worst."  She 
paused  for  a  moment.  The  doctor  leaned  down  and 
taking  her  thin,  little  hand  in  both  of  his,  patted  it 
softly.  "Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "I  guess  you  ought 
to  know." 

He  paused  for  a  moment  and  turned  his  head 
away  from  the  woman's  steadfast  gaze.  "Von  of 
the  most  difficult  t'ings  a  doctor  has  to  do  is  to  de- 
cide just  when  it's  fair — and  safe  to  tell  a  patient  the 
absolute  truth." 

"I  know  that,  doctor;  please  go  on." 

"Under  proper  conditions  you  still  got  a  fighting 


THE    LURE  19 


chance,  Mrs.  Jones;  not  an  even  chance,  mind  you 
— shust  an  odd  chance.  But  a  good  fighter  vill  al- 
ways give  odds." 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  true,"  said  the  woman  calmly. 
"I've  had  the  odds  against  me  nearly  all  my  life, 
doctor,  you  know  that.  This  room  proclaims  it, 
doesn't  it,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  wan  smile. 

"Now,  the  operation  itself  is  not  dangerous.  Ve 
get  it  done  at  the  hospital.  You  vill  get  along  very 
well  in  the  hospital,  I  have  no  doubt,  vile  you  are 
there.  But  to  bring  you  back  here  to  convalesce — 
here,  here — to  be  stifled  by  dis  foul  air  and  shut  in 
by  dese  vails,  vare  de  sunshine  can't  ever  find  you, 
and  vare  God  Himself  can  only  do  it  by  looking 

cross vays  down  an  air  shaft "  The  doctor 

paused  again  and  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no,"  he  exclaimed ;  "the  odds  are  too  great. 
You  vould  die  in  a  veek,  Mrs.  Jones." 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment  after  that,  then  the 
woman  looked  up  smilingly  and  said : 

"I'm  willing  to  risk  it,  doctor."     For  the  first 


20  THE    LURE 


time  the  doctor  frowned.  "But  I'm  not  villing  to 
have  you  risk  it.  It  vould  be  suicide." 

"But,  doctor,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  the  trip 
to  the  country  is  out  of  the  question." 

"Ve  vill  put  it  in  the  question  then." 

"You  know  perfectly  well  we  haven't  the  money." 

"It  vouldn't  cost  very  much,"  argued  the  doctor. 

"Very  much,"  echoed  the  woman.  "Why,  doctor, 
anything  is  more  than  we  have  at  present;  and  I 
can't  see  any  chance  of  assistance  from  any  quarter 
except  for  the  money  that  Sylvia  earns  at  the 
shop " 

"And  I  haven't  got  it,  either,"  interrupted  the 
doctor.  "And  I  can't  get  it  no  more  than  you,  be- 
cause you  know  if  I  could  ve'd  be  hurrying  you 
away  to-morrow." 

"God  bless  you,  doctor,  I  know  you  would. 
You've  always  been  too  good  to  Sylvia  and  me." 

"Not  as  good  as  I  vould  have  been  if  I  could  have 
been  any  better.  I'm  a  very  poor  man  myself,  but 
I  have  this  consolation,"  he  went  on  smilingly,  "I 
am  poor  by  accident,  not  by  design.  I  t'ink  if  I  had 


THE    LURE  21 


fife  dollars  all  at  one  time  I  vouldn't  know  myself." 

The  woman  gave  a  little  laugh.  "Come,  come," 
she  said,  "you  are  wandering  from  the  point  again. 
Let's  get  back  to  my  troubles,  doctor." 

He  drew  a  chair  from  the  table  and  sat  down  be- 
side Mrs.  Jones.  "Do  you  know,  the  only  times  I 
vish  I  vas  rich  is  ven  I  see  a  few  dollars  standing 
between  somebody  and  good  health — possibly  be- 
tween dem  and  life.  It's  then  I  vish  I  vas  a  multi- 
millionaire shust  for  a  few  days.  And,  believe  me, 
you  wouldn't  find  me  spending  my  money  building 
art  galleries  and  public  libraries,  either." 

"But  you  have  already  given  your  life  to  the 
poor,  doctor,  surely  that's  more  than  money." 

"Veil,  it  vas  my  own  life,  vasn't  it?"  retorted  the 
doctor  indignantly.  "I  could  do  vat  I  pleased  with 
it,  I  guess." 

"Of  course  you  could,"  laughed  the  woman;  "and 
to  other  nationalities  and  religions,  you've  always 
been  a  cosmopolitan  in  your  philanthropies,  doctor." 

"Veil,  vy  not,  my  dear?  Don't  you  know  the 
measles  makes  a  Gentile  boy  shust  as  speckled  as  a 


22  THE    LURE 


Hebrew?  And  if  the  whooping  cough  don't  know 
no  religion,  vy  should  I,  shust  a  mere  doctor?" 

"But  some  of  them  do,  all  the  same.  There  isn't 
one  doctor  in  ten  thousand  who  has  given  his  life 
to  the  poor  as  you  have  done." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Dat's  vid  their  own  conscience.  Huh !  as  for  me, 
I'm  happy,  I'm  veil,  I  sleep  veil,  I  eat  veil — not  so 
often  sometimes  perhaps;  but  den  ven  I  do  it's  a 
luxury.  And  I  enjoy  a  good  smoke  always.  Now, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Jones,  what  more  is  there  in  life  for 
me?" 

While  they  had  been  talking  the  light  from  the 
single  gas  jet  had  been  growing  dimmer  and  dim- 
mer. It  was  now  so  near  a  flicker  that  Mrs.  Jones 
was  obliged  to  lay  down  her  crochet  work.  As  she 
did  so  the  doctor  turned  and  glared  menacingly  at 
the  burner.  "Huh !  de  gas  pressure  is  mighty  veak 
to-night,  it  seems  to  me." 

Mrs.  Jones  looked  disconcerted.  She  gave  a 
nervous  little  laugh  and  exclaimed :  "To  tell  you  the 


THE    LURE  23 


truth,  doctor,  I  think  the  meter  needs  a  little  more 
of  the  money  we  haven't  got." 

Instinctively  the  doctor  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
trousers'  pocket,  but  the  blank  expression  which  sud- 
denly suffused  his  face  showed  that  his  search  had 
proved  futile.  "By  Gott !"  he  exclaimed  irritatedly, 
"vot  a  vorld  it  is,  even  der  damn  machines  get  hun- 
gry for  money.  Can't  I  put  the  quarter  in  for 
you?"  he  asked,  turning  toward  her. 

The  woman  rose  with  a  gesture  of  apology.  "I'm 
afraid  we  will  have  to  wait  until  Sylvia  comes,  doc- 
tor. Even  if  we  have  to  sit  in  the  dark." 

"Oh,  no,  ve  von't  have  to  vait,  either,"  he  ex- 
claimed, while  his  hands  made  another  frantic 
search  of  his  coat  and  waistcoat  pockets. 

In  one  of  these  pockets  he  found  a  few  small 
coins. 

"No,  no,  doctor,  I  wouldn't  take  them  for  the 
world,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  saw  his  intention; 
"and,  after  all,  we  shan't  have  to  sit  in  the  dark — 
there's  still  a  little  oil  in  the  lamp." 


THE    LURE 


"Nonsense;  it's  shust  a  little  loan,  my  dear.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  refuse  me."  ^ 

She  turned  to  the  table  and  lighted  the  lamp 
which  immediately  flickered  almost  as  weakly  as  the 
gas  burner  had  done. 

"You  really  mustn't,"  said  the  woman;  "you  need 
all  your  pennies  for  yourself." 

The  old  man  turned  toward  her  with  a  quizzical 
smile,  the  coin  still  there  in  his  outstretched  palm. 
"You  would  really  rather  that  I  vouldn't?"  he 
asked,  as  though  thinking  rather  better  of  the  bar- 
gain himself. 

"Certainly,  I  would  not  allow  you  to." 

"Dat's  good ;  your  decision  is  a  great  relief  to  me, 
Mrs.  Jones,"  he  exclaimed  with  mock  dignity,  "be- 
cause now  I  must  tell  you  I  haf  only  dventy-two 
cents.  I  guess  I  overestimated  myself.  I  t'ought  I 
had  dventy-seven.  I  vender  vot  happened  to  that 
other  nickel  ?  It  didn't  go  for  a  beer,  because  I  ain't 
had  a  beer  since  last  Sunday." 

"Never  mind,  doctor;  the  lamp  will  do  splen- 
didly." 


THE    LURE  25 


"Vy  do  dey  charge  dventy-five  cents  for  dese 
meters,  anyvay?"  exclaimed  the  doctor  angrily.  "I 
don't  see  vy  dey  don't  make  fife-cent  meters — 
they've  got  penny  slot  machines." 

"They'll  probably  have  to  very  soon,  doctor," 
smiled  the  woman;  "that  is,  if  they  expect  to  throw 
any  light  on  us."  As  she  spoke  she  sat  down  in 
the  rocking  chair  again  and  her  face  became  seri- 
ous. 

Divining  her  intention,  the  doctor,  in  order  to 
put  off  the  evil  moment,  exclaimed,  "I  vender  vot  I 
did  with  dot  other  nickel ;  dat's  a  funny  thing  about 
me.  I  don't  mind  spending  my  money,  but  I  like 
to  remember  vot  I  did  with  it.  Now,  ven  I  got  up 
this  morning  dot  nigger  vos  in  my  vaistcoat  pocket." 

"Doctor,"  said  the  woman,  coming  back  to  bitter 
facts,  "how  long  can  I  live  without  the  operation?" 

"Not  over  a  month." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  woman,  taking  her  death 
warrant  with  a  smile. 

There  was  something  of  reverence  in  the  old 


26  THE    LURE 


man's  face  as  he  looked  at  her.  "Vot  a  philoso- 
pher !"  he  exclaimed. 

She  shook  her  head.  "It  isn't  philosophy,"  she 
answered. 

"No;  vot  is  it,  then?"  queried  the  doctor. 

"It's  just  faith." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled. 
"My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "ven  you  have  lived  as 
long  as  I  have  you  vill  know  that  faith  is  the  mother 
of  philosophy." 

"I  don't  know  about  that."  There  was  a  little 
sob  in  her  voice  now.  "But  just  for  myself  I'd  wel- 
come the  long  sleep  gladly  to-night.  I'm  so  tired  of 
it  all.  It's  been  such  a  long,  long,  bitter  struggle. 
After  my  husband  deserted  us  while  Sylvia  was  still 
a  little  thing,  it  wasn't  so  bad.  There  was  always 
something  to  look  forward  to — the  time  that  she 
should  be  grown  up,  and  by  that  time,  of  course,  I 
always  supposed  that  things  would  have  taken  a 
turn  for  the  better ;  and  then,  when  she  did  grow  up 
— that  was  the  bitterest  cut  of  all,  that  she  should 
have  to  go  out  and  earn  her  living ;  that  she  should 


THE    LURE  27 


be  cut  off  from  all  the  pleasures  and  the  luxuries 
and  the  good  times  of  life  which  I  had  known  as  a 
young  girl ;  to  have  her  become  what  she  is — just  a 
drudge,  a  poor  little  drudge,  working  her  soul  out 
for  six  dollars  a  week.  So  you  can't  blame  me 
much,  can  you,  when  I  say  that  if  it  wasn't  for 
Sylvia " 

"Ah,  but  dot's  just  it,"  interrupted  the  doctor. 
"Sylvia !  You've  just  got  to  live  for  her." 

"But  you  say  I  can't,"  expostulated  the  mother. 

"In  the  country  you  can  live,"  he  rejoined;  "live 
beautifully  and  happily  for  many,  many  years.  I'd 
be  villing  to  bet  on  dot." 

"Ah,  but  that's  hopeless,  impossible,  out  of  the 
question." 

"Now,  now,"  he  exclaimed  soothingly,  "don't  be 
so  sure  about  dot.  There's  always  hope.  Hope  is 
the  best  friend  any  of  us  ever  had,  and  we  all  makes 
a  great  mistake  that  we  turn  our  back  on  her." 

"Yes,  I  agree  with  you  there,"  said  the  woman 
more  cheerfully.  "Who  is  it  says,  'hope  is  a  hen 
who  lays  more  eggs  than  she  can  hatch'  ?" 


28  THE    LURE 


"Some  damn  ole  fool,  my  dear;  don't  you  believe 
in  him.  He's  a  liar.  And  even  if  it  vas  true,  we'd 
get  an  incubator  then.  Ve'll  hatch  'em." 

"And  then  there  is  another  thing,  doctor,"  said 
the  woman  drearily.  "I  am  afraid  about  Sylvia  her- 
self. She  isn't  well." 

"Doesn't  she  sleep  well?" 

"No,  she  is  up  three  or  four  times  every  night  to 
see  if  I  am  comfortable." 

"Veil,  my  dear,"  and  the  doctor  spoke  with 
greater  earnestness  than  at  any  time,  "if  you  ever 
run  out  of  things  to  thank  the  Lord  for,  shust  re- 
member to  thank  him  for  the  privilege  of  having 
been  Sylvia's  mother." 

"I  do  that  every  day,"  said  the  woman  fervently. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Vait,"  said  the  doctor  rising,  "I  vill  go  see." 

On  the  threshold,  as  he  threw  the  door  open, 
stood  Bob  MacAuley. 


CHAPTER   III 

They  had  been  talking-  of  hope,  and  somehow, 
as  the  distracted  woman  turned  toward  the  doorway 
and  looked  for  the  first  time  at  MacAuley's  hand- 
some, good-natured,  earnest  face,  she  felt  that  hope 
blew  into  the  room  along  with  him  like  a  breeze. 
His  was  a  personality  so  commanding  that  to  a 
stranger  it  inspired  one  of  two  things :  one  either 
trusted  Bob  MacAuley  or  feared  him.  His  strong, 
dominant  nature  compelled  recognition  either  one 
way  or  the  other.  He  was  tall,  about  thirty-five 
years  of  age,  well  proportioned;  his  manner  was 
rather  lazy,  but  his  eyes  were  never  idle  for  a  mo- 
ment. Before  he  had  been  in  the  room  for  half  a 
minute  he  had  taken  in  every  detail  of  the  tragedy 
of  the  apartment.  At  sight  of  him,  for  the  first  time 
in  all  that  weary  day,  a  look  of  genuine  pleasure 
crept  into  Mrs.  Jones'  face.  "Come  in,  sir,"  she 

said,    turning   toward   him   with   gentle   courtesy. 

29 


30  THE    LURE 


"What  can  we  do  for  you  ?  The  doctor  and  I  here 
have  just  been  talking  about  hope  when  your  knock 
came  to  the  door.  I  hope  you  are  a  good  omen, 
sir." 

"I  hope  so,  I  am  sure,"  said  Bob  smilingly,  as  he 
bowed  to  her.  "I  wanted  to  speak  to  the  lady  of 
this  apartment.  Are  you  Mrs.  Jones  ?" 

"The  lady  herself,"  said  the  doctor,  introducing 
her  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand. 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  sir?"  and  Mrs.  Jones  of- 
fered him  a  chair. 

"Thank  you ;  but  I  will  only  detain  you  for  a  mo- 
ment," he  turned  toward  the  doctor  as  though  to 
include  him  in  the  conversation.  "My  name  is  Mac- 
Auley,  Mrs.  Jones.  I  am  a  Special  Agent  of  the 
Department  of  Justice — a  Government  officer " 

"Ah,  secret  service?"  asked  the  doctor,  growing 
interested  at  once. 

"Yes,  secret,  as  far  as  possible,"  smiled  Bob; 
"though,  of  course,  now  and  then  we  have  to  take 
good  citizens  like  yourself  into  our  confidence,  more 
or  less.  Here  are  my  credentials,  madam." 


THE    LURE  31 


As  he  spoke  he  placed  on  the  table  a  small  mo- 
rocco card  case. 

Mrs.  Jones  glanced  at  it  casually,  then  turned 
to  introduce  the  doctor.  "This  is  my  old  friend, 
Dr.  Goldberg,  Mr.  -  -" 

"MacAuley,"  prompted  Bob. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  holding 
out  his  hand. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Goldberg,  eh?  You  live  on  the  floor 
below,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  I  do;  but  how  did  you  know  that?"  queried 
the  doctor. 

MacAuley  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
"That  was  very  easy.  I  got  both  your  names  from 
the  letter  carrier.  The  postman  on  this  route  is  an 
intimate  friend  of  mine." 

"Ah,  I  see,"  and  the  doctor  smiled  knowingly. 

"We  Government  officials  get  a  lot  of  our  infor- 
mation from  the  postmen,"  continued  Bob. 

"I  don't  wonder,"  said  the  doctor.  "They  know 
everything  that  is  going  on  in  the  block,  and  more, 
too." 


32  THE    LURE 


"That's  true  enough;  more  than  the  cabmen  and 
the  telephone  girls  combined." 

"I  guess  that's  true,  too,"  laughed  the  doctor. 

MacAuley  turned  toward  Mrs.  Jones. 

"I've  a  rather  peculiar  request  to  make,  madam, 
and  I  shall  have  to  rely  a  little  bit  on  your  discre- 
tion." 

"Ah,  we've  got  plenty  of  discretion,"  interrupted 
the  doctor.  "That's  one  of  the  things  you  don't 
have  to  pay  for,  and  ven  you've  got  it,  it  don't  cost 
you  much." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  it's  worth  a  whole  lot,  all  the  same," 
rejoined  Bob  good  humoredly. 

"In  what  way  can  I  serve  you,  sir?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jones. 

MacAuley  became  suddenly  serious. 

"I  believe  it  is  better  to  be  frank,  madam.  I 
can  explain  what  I  want  in  a  very  few  words,  if  you 
will  allow  me.  I'm  engaged  on  a  White  Slave  case 
just  now.  A  young  girl  disappeared  from  her  home 
in  Springfield  very  mysteriously  the  other  day.  Not 
a  word  has  been  heard  of  her  for  more  than  a  week. 


THE    LURE  3S 


Her  family  and  friends  are  distracted,  of  course, 
and  her  father,  who  is  a  wealthy  banker,  is  about 
to  offer  a  big  reward  for  any  information  with  re- 
gard to  her.  So  far  the  police  have  succeeded  for 
their  own  purposes  in  keeping  all  mention  of  the 
case  out  of  the  newspapers,  but  by  to-night  the 
country  will  be  ringing  with  the  story. 

"This  afternoon  our  department  got  a  tip  that  the 
girl  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  'White  Slavers' 
and  is  hidden  somewhere  in  this  city." 

Mrs.  Jones  gave  a  little  cry  of  horror.  The  doc- 
tor turned  to  MacAuley,  all  attention  now.  "You- 
don't-say!"  he  exclaimed  in  the  slow,  ponderous 
tone  which  he  always  assumed  when  particularly  in- 
terested. "It's  on  the  strength  of  this  clue,"  con- 
tinued Bob,  "that  I've  been  sent  down  here.  You 
don't  know  it,  of  course,  but  there's  a  notorious  band 
of  cadets  who  make  their  headquarters  in  the  little 
hotel  on  the  corner  of  this  block — the  one  over  the 
saloon." 

"I  know  the  place,"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "It's 
that  damned  Callahan's !" 


34  THE    LURE 


MacAuley  resumed  his  story.  "This  hotel  keeper, 
Callahan,  as  you  call  him,  is  their  friend ;  in  fact,  he 
is  in  league  with  them,  and  so  I  can't  go  in  the 
front  door,  you  see.  What  I  want  to  do,  if  you  will 
permit  me,  is  to  go  through  your  window,  climb  the 
fire  escape  and  go  over  the  roofs.  I  think  by  that 
means  I  can  get  into  the  cadets'  rooms  and  perhaps 
get  some  information  which  will  help  me  to  find 
where  they  have  hidden  the  girl." 

"By  all  means,  sir !"  exclaimed  the  mother,  rising 
to  her  feet.  "And  may  God  help  you  to  find  the 
poor  child." 

"Thank  you,  madam,"  said  Bob. 

He  started  for  the  window,  but  before  his  foot 
was  upon  the  sill  a  hand  organ  began  to  play  in  the 
court  below.  MacAuley  started  back  from  the 
window. 

"Oh,  dot  hand  organ  again!"  cried  the  doctor 
pettishly.  "It  gets  my — what  is  it  you  call  it?  Oh, 
yes,  my  goat.  I  don't  know  vot  it  means,  but  I 
know  how  it  feels.  Vy  don't  the  Government — 
you  say  you  are  a  Government  man,  sir — vy  don't 


THE    LURE  35 


the  Government  make  an  immigration  law  to  keep 
all  the  scum  of  Europe  from  coming  over  here  and 
playing  hand  organs  and  selling  bananas?" 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  laughed  Bob.  "I  wish 
they  would." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  a  small  riot 
in  the  court  below  and  the  strident  voice  of  an  Irish- 
man consigning  the  organ  grinder  to  the  nether 
regions. 

"Isn't  it  funny,"  cried  the  doctor,  "how  the  Irish 
learn  the  American  language  so  quick  ?" 

As  the  row  in  the  courtyard  below  showed  no 
sign  of  decreasing  for  the  moment,  MacAuley  came 
to  the  window  and  sat  down  at  the  table  opposite 
Mrs.  Jones. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  madam,  I'll  just  wait  for  a 
minute  or  two,  till  the  neighborhood  quiets  down  a 
bit.  I  don't  think  this  is  exactly  the  psychological 
moment  for  me  to  make  my  ascent  to  the  roof." 

"Sit  down,  sit  down,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 
"There's  lots  of  time ;  and  now,  if  you  don't  mind, 


36  THE    LURE 


while  you  are  waiting,  tell  us  about  these  cadets,  vot 
are  they?" 

"Why,  they're  just  a  lot  of  young  criminals  who 
want  to  live  easy  and  dress  well,"  explained  Bob. 

"Ah,  loafers,  eh?"  volunteered  the  doctor. 

Bob  nodded  his  head.  "Yes,  loafers  and  worse. 
They're  the  sort  of  fellows  you  see  standing  on  the 
street  corners  of  an  afternoon,  sizing  up  every  girl 
who  passes." 

"I've  seen  'em,  I've  seen  'em!"  cried  the  doctor 
excitedly.  "And  every  time  I  watches  them  I  want 
to  break  their  damn  necks." 

"Many  of  them  are  professional  pickpockets, 
sneak  thieves,  gunmen;  in  fact,  they'll  commit  any 
sort  of  crime  if  it's  made  worth  their  while;  but 
their  real  business  is  something  more  serious." 

"Business?"  echoed  the  doctor.  "Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  any  of  those  young  devils  ever  have 
a  regular  job  ?" 

"It's  a  very  profitable  business,"  answered  Bob. 
"And,  as  a  general  rule,  a  fairly  safe  one." 

"Veil,  vot  do  you  think  of  that?"  cried  the  doctor. 


THE    LURE  37 


"They  are  great  students  of  human  nature,  these 
young  devils,  as  you  call  them,  doctor.  They  know, 
for  instance,  that  a  man  will  raise  a  mighty  howl 
if  they  pick  his  pocket  of  a  few  dollars.  But  they 
also  know  that  if  they  trick  this  same  man's  daugh- 
ter the  probabilities  are  that  he  will  quietly  swallow 
his  shame.  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  kick 
the  poor  girl  out  into  the  streets." 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  the  mother  unbelievingly.  "I 
don't  believe  there's  a  father  on  earth  would  do  such 
a  thing  as  that." 

"Oh,  but  there  are,"  repeated  Bob  very  seriously. 
"Statistics  show  that  very  clearly.  You  see,  that  is 
what  the  cadets  rely  upon.  They  know  that  the  girl, 
once  she  has  been  in  their  possession,  would  far 
rather  die  than  ever  face  the  ordeal  of  going  back  to 
her  people,  and  nine  times  out  of  ten  when  she  does 
go  back  the  result  is  that  she  is  thrown  out  into  the 
street,  and  that's  where  the  cadets  want  the  girl." 

"Ah,  I  see  vot  you  mean,"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 
"The  father  blames  the  girl— 

"But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 


38  THE    LURE 


Jones,  "that  in  a  Christian  country  like  this,  in  the 
twentieth  century,  such  things  are  possible  in  a 
civilized  community?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  do,"  answered  Bob.  Then,  turning 
toward  the  doctor,  he  continued:  "But  there's  an- 
other side  to  the  question.  The  girl  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  is  an  innocent  victim.  Whether  she's  in- 
nocent or  not  makes  no  difference  to  the  cadets. 
They  are  simply  recruiting  officers  for  the  Scarlet 
Militia." 

"So,  so,  so,"  said  the  doctor,  wagging  his  head. 

"The  methods  of  these  cadets  are  so  perfect," 
continued  Bob,  "that  they  can  ensnare  almost  any 
girl  that  takes  their  fancy." 

"Merciful  God !"  cried  the  mother. 

"And  ven  they  do?"  asked  the  doctor,  now  hang- 
ing on  Bob's  every  word. 

"White  Slavery  is  the  result,"  said  Bob. 

"Veil,  you  certainly  do  surprise  me,  Mr.  Secret 
Service  Man,"  said  the  doctor.  "Here  we  are,  two 
respectable,  God-fearing  peoples,  like  Mrs.  Jones 
and  myself,  living  right  in  the  midst  of  all  this, 


THE    LURE  39 


with  fiends  and  devils,  like  this,  for  our  next-door 
neighbors;  and  Callahan  is  in  it,  too.  My  Gott!  I 
never  did  think  much  of  his  beer,  but  I  didn't  think 
as  bad  as  this  even  of  Callahan !" 

"It's  all  true,  every  word  of  it,"  continued  Bob 
grimly;  "and  unless  I'm  very  much  mistaken,  the 
newspapers  of  the  next  two  days  will  confirm  every 
word  that  I  have  said  and  more.  The  case  of  this 
little  Springfield  girl  is  going  to  make  the  whole 
country  sit  up  and  take  notice.  And  it's  about  time." 

"And  all  this  time,  here  have  I,  right  in  the  midst 
of  it,  been  thinking  all  this  White  Slave  business 
was  all  just  cheap  newspaper  talk." 

Bob  rose  to  his  feet.  "The  White  Slave  question 
is  the  one  thing  newspapers  can't  exaggerate,"  he 
remarked  with  great  seriousness. 

"Is  dot  so,  you  don't  tell  me?"  exclaimed  the  doc- 
tor, now  thoroughly  convinced. 

"For  every  girl  who  voluntarily  strays  off  into 
that  other  life,"  MacAuley  went  on,  "there  are  two 
innocent  girls  tricked  and  forced  into  it,  and  held 


40  THE    LURE 


there  against  their  will  until  death  or  delirium  re- 
leases them." 

"Can  that  be  possible?"  cried  the  mother. 

"Yes,  madam,  it  can  and  is.  At  least  twenty-five 
thousand  innocent  girls  are  lost  in  this  way  every 
year,  according  to  our  latest  statistics.  And  the  sta- 
tistics of  the  Department  of  Justice,  I  assure  you,  do 
not  lie.  But  there,  it's  quiet  down  in  the  court  now. 
I  think  I  had  better  start  my  climb.  Would  you 
mind  turning  down  the  lamp  for  a  moment?"  Mrs. 
Jones  leaned  forward  and  followed  his  instructions. 
"Thank  you  so  much,  madam,"  said  Bob,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "I  am  afraid  I  have  shocked  and 
horrified  you  unduly,  but  after  all,  I  am  sure,  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  these  are  facts  which  every 
mother  and  father  ought  to  know." 

"Vill  you  need  any  help?"  exclaimed  the  doctor, 
following  MacAuley  to  the  window. 

"No,  thanks,"  answered  Bob  laughingly. 

"But  you'll  come  back  this  way,  won't  you?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Jones.  "We  shall  be  so  anxious  to 
hear  what  you  discover  about  that  poor  little  girl." 


THE    LURE  41 


"If  the  cadets  don't  see  me  I  shall  certainly  come 
back  this  way,"  laughed  Bob ;  "in  fact,  I  will  have  to 
— it's  the  only  way  out  for  me." 

"I  wonder  if  what  he  says  is  true?"  said  the  doc- 
tor when  MacAuley  had  finally  disappeared  up  the 
fire  escape.  "I  can  hardly  believe  it,"  said  the 
mother,  still  doubtfully,  "and  yet  he  spoke  with  such 
earnestness,  such  sincerity." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  doctor;  "he  don't  look  a  bit 
like  a  fellow  who  talks  to  give  his  tongue  physical 
culture." 

"There  was  something  about  him  that  I  liked  so 
much,"  continued  the  mother,  as  she  returned  to  her 
seat  at  the  table.  "Do  you  know,  doctor,  I  think 
that  God  must  have  sent  him  here  to-day.  I  feel 
like  a  different  woman  since  I've  seen  him.  He  has 
given  me  hope." 

"Hope,"  cried  the  doctor  in  amazement;  "hope, 
after  telling  you  such  terrible  things  as  that  ?" 

"Ah,  but  don't  you  see,  those  very  terrible  things 
which  he  told  us  have  made  me  realize,  as  I  never 
did  before,  how  necessary  it  is  that  I  should  live. 


42  THE    LURE 


Who  is  to  protect  and  guard  Sylvia  when  I  am 
gone?  Why  you're  the  only  friend  she  has  in  the 
world,  doctor,  and  you  are  an  old  man.  You  can't 
live  forever.  So  there  is  nothing  for  it,  I  must  live, 
and  somehow,  since  that  young  man  came  here,  it 
doesn't  seem  so  hard.  He  seems  to  have  given  me 
courage.  Why,  doctor,  it's  been  better  even  than 
any  tonic  that  you  could  have  concocted  for  me.  I 
tell  you  that  young  man  has  inspired  me.  I  am  go- 
ing to  live." 


CHAPTER   IV 

"I  wish  Sylvia  could  have  been  here  to  meet  that 
young  man,"  said  the  mother  as  she  seated  herself 
in  the  rocking  chair  again  and  tried  to  go  on  with 
the  crochet  work  in  the  dim,  flickering  light.  "I 
think  Sylvia  would  have  liked  him.  We  nearly  al- 
ways like  the  same  people,  she  and  I.  And  there 
is  something  about  that  young  man  that  makes  you 
trust  and  like  him.  Of  course,"  she  went  on,  "it 
would  not  have  done  for  Sylvia  to  have  heard  all 
those  terrible  things  he  told  us."  She  paused  and 
reflected  for  a  moment,  "and  yet,  I  don't  know,  for 
a  girl  in  Sylvia's  position — a  girl  who  is  out  in  the 
world,  who  has  to  make  her  own  living — perhaps  it 
would  be  just  as  well  for  her  to  know.  What,  do 
you  think,  doctor?" 

"I  t'ink,  my  dear  lady,  that  instinct  will  protect  a 
good  voman  anyvhere.  I  t'ink  the  good  God,  He 

looks  after  all  that." 

43 


44  THE    LURE 


"Ah,  but  does  He?"  returned  the  mother.  "If  all 
that  Mr.  MacAuley  has  told  us  is  true,  your  theory 
does  not  hold  water,  does  it  ?" 

"Perhaps  not,"  and  the  doctor  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders; "but  Sylvia  is  such  a  sweet,  quiet,  lovely  girl. 
She  has  had  such  a  hard  struggle  as  it  is.  Her 
vork,  her  vorry  about  you,  the  hard  time  she  al- 
vays  has  to  make  your  two  ends  meet  in  the  middle 
— vy  put  dose  ideas  about  the  terrors  and  the  hor- 
rors of  the  world  into  her  head  ven  there  is  too 
much  already  inside  of  that  dear  little  head  to  vex 
and  vorry  her.  Let  'Sleeping  dogs  lie,'  dot's  a  good 
old  maxim,  which  can  veil  be  followed,  even  by 
oder  people  than  those  who  are  interested  in  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals. 
Take  it  from  me,  Mrs.  Jones,  our  Sylvia,  she's  got 
troubles  enough." 

"I  wonder  where  she  is,"  said  the  mother  look- 
ing suddenly  at  the  clock,  which  now  pointed  to  a 
few  minutes  of  seven.  "She's  very  late  to-night. 
She's  nearly  always  home  by  half-past  six  at  the 
very  latest." 


THE    LURE  45 


"Don't  you  vorry  about  Sylvia — she's  all  right," 
answered  the  doctor.  "Don't  you  want  me  to  put 
the  tea  on  for  you,  Mrs.  Jones  ?" 

"Thank  you,  doctor;  will  you?"  and  then  she 
added,  as  her  face  brightened,  "perhaps  by  the  time 
he  gets  back  here  our  friend  MacAuley  might  like 
a  cup  of  tea." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed. 
"Dot's  a  pretty  long  jump  for  a  detective!"  he  ex- 
claimed, "from  the  'White  Slavers'  to  a  quiet  cup 
of  tea;  but  I  guess  he'll  be  glad  to  take  it  all  right. 
I  think  you  infatuated  that  young  man,  Mrs.  Jones. 
I  vos  vatching  him  very  closely.  He  couldn't  keep 
his  eyes  off  you  all  the  time.  It  must  have  been 
that  sweet  face  of  yours.  I  guess  perhaps  you  made 
him  t'ink  of  his  own  mother." 

"Well,  whatever  I  made  him  think  of,  he  cer- 
tainly did  us  both  a  lot  of  good,  didn't  he?  Here 
we  were,  you  and  I,  half  an  hour  ago  in  the  very 
depths,  almost  as  it  were  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow, 
and  here  we  are  now,  almost  gossiping.  Isn't  it 
wonderful,  doctor,  what  a  new  personality  can  do 


46  THE    LURE 


for  old  people  like  ourselves,  who  have  got  in  a  rut  ? 
You  see,  there  is  another  thing,  too,"  went  on  the 
woman;  "it's  so  long,  so  many  years  now,  since  I 
have  been  thrown  into  contact  with  any  persons  of 
my  own  class.  Ever  since  Sylvia  was  a  little  baby, 
and  we  grew  to  be  so  poor,  I  have  always  shunned 
and  avoided  my  old  friends.  It  wasn't  their  fault, 
it  was  all  mine.  I  was  a  snob,  perhaps,  and  I  wasn't 
fair  to  them,  for  there  were  many  who  I  know 
would  have  been  true  and  loyal  to  me;  but  I  was 
ashamed  of  my  poverty.  I  couldn't  bear  for  them 
to  see  Sylvia,  pretty  as  she  was,  because  I  couldn't 
dress  her  in  all  the  pretty  laces  and  furbelows  which 
other  children  wear.  My  conscience  often  smites 
me  for  it  now ;  because,  by  doing  what  I  did,  I  have 
made  the  child's  life  so  terribly  lonely.  I  never 
realized  my  mistake  so  fully  as  I  have  to-day. 
When  that  young  man  came  into  the  room  I  said  to 
myself,  'Ah,  here's  the  sort  of  man  that  my  Sylvia 
ought  to  know,'  but  how  is  she  to  meet  any  one  ex- 
cept by  a  chance  scraped-up  acquaintance  across  the 
counter?" 


THE    LURE  47 


The  doctor  pricked  up  his  ears  and  listened  in- 
tently. "Speaking  of  angels,"  he  said,  "I  think  I 
hear  the  rustle  of  your  angel's  wings.  That's  Syl- 
via's footstep  in  the  hall." 

"Hello,  momsey,  here  I  am,  darling,"  called  a 
fresh  young  voice  and  Sylvia  burst  into  the  room. 

"Doctor,  God  bless  you;  so  you  are  here,  too? 
How  is  she  to-night,  doctor?" 

"Better,  a  great  deal  better,  my  dear,"  exclaimed 
the  doctor  before  the  little  mother  had  a  chance  to 
get  a  word  in  edgewise.  "Vy,  I  haf  never  seen  such 
a  sudden  improvement  in  any  patient  in  my  life. 
Vy,  if  your  mother  vos  a  drinking  voman,  my  dear, 
I  should  have  said  she'd  had  a  cocktail." 

"A  cocktail?  Why,  nonsense,  doctor.  Dear  old 
momsey  doesn't  even  know  that  such  things  exist. 
Seriously,  though,  how  is  she?" 

"My  dear,"  said  her  mother  quietly,  as  she  patted 
her  daughter's  hand,  "I  am  feeling  better — very, 
very  much  better.  Let's  worry  about  you  for  a  lit- 
tle change,  my  dear.  You  look  dreadfully  tired. 
Sit  down  and  let  the  doctor  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea." 


48  THE    LURE 


Sylvia  took  off  her  hat  and  threw  her  gloves  on 
the  table.  To  the  doctor's  quick  eye  it  was  evident 
that  her  brightness  was  all  assumed. 

"We've  just  been  talking  about  you,  my  dear," 
said  the  doctor  as  he  slipped  two  lumps  of  sugar 
into  her  tea. 

"Were  you?  What  were  you  saying?"  asked 
Sylvia. 

"Oh,  I  was  saying  some  nice  t'ings — and  t'inking 
a  lot  of  other  nice  t'ings  that  I  didn't  say." 

"But  nice  things  unsaid  don't  help  much,  do 
they  ?"  said  the  girl  a  little  wearily. 

"But  I  am  going  to  say  them,  my  dear,"  laughed 
the  doctor. 

"Are  you?    When?" 

"At  the  psychological  time,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"When  is  that?"  asked  Sylvia. 

"Veil,  if  I  were  a  young  man,  any  time  and  efery 
time  would  be  psychological,  so  long  as  I  vos  mit 
you." 

"Come,  come,  doctor,  now,  don't  be  foolish." 

"Foolish,  my  dear?"  echoed  the  doctor.     "Vy, 


THE    LURE 


yen  it  comes  to  love  affairs  I  am  a  specialist,  a 
bachelor  of  the  arts.  Vy  I  could  tell  you  more  new 
things  about  love  than  you  ever  dreamed." 

The  girl  smiled  and  shook  her  head.  "It  seems 
to  me  love's  only  just  a  dream,  anyhow,  don't  you 
think  so,  doctor  ?" 

"Veil,  sometimes  it's  a  dream — sometimes  it's  a 
nightmare,  and  sometimes  it's  a  benediction  right 
from  heaven.  Ven  it's  dat,  eferyt'ing  else  in  the 
vorld  takes  off  its  hat  to  it." 

A  dreamy,  faraway  look  crept  into  Sylvia's  eyes. 
"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  dreamily ;  "but  I  don't 
know " 

"You  vill  know  some  day,"  said  the  doctor 
promptly. 

"How  on  earth  am  I  ever  to  learn?  Remember, 
I  am  just  a  girl  behind  the  counter." 

"You  don't  haf  to  learn  about  love.  You  shust 
ketch  it  ven  you  are  not  vatching,  and  from  vot  I 
know  about  it  it  gets  behind  the  counter  shust  as 
quick  as  anywhere  else  and  you  don't  need  no  doctor 


50  THE    LURE 


to  tell  you  vot's  the  matter  with  you  when  you've 
got  it." 

For  the  first  time  there  was  a  little  tinge  of 
gayety  in  Sylvia's  eyes.  "Ah,  doctor,"  she  cried, 
"you  are  just  a  dear  old  tease ;  but,  come  now,  let's 
be  serious.  Momsey  is  really  better  to-night,  isn't 
she  ?"  she  asked  in  a  slightly  lower  voice.  "How  is 
the  fever?"  asked  the  girl.  Almost  involuntarily 
she  reached  out  and  felt  her  mother's  pulse  and  then 
caressed  her  hand. 

"It's  less  than  a  hundred  to-night,"  said  the  doc- 
tor. 

"That's  fine.  If  this  lazy  summer  would  hurry 
along  we'd  be  all  right  yet." 

"fey  the  way,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "did  you 
get  the  prescription  filled?" 

"No,"  answered  the  girl  abruptly,  and  she  turned 
awray  her  head  from  her  mother.  "It  was  too  late, 
the  dispensary  was  closed  for  the  night  when  I  got 
there." 

"Closed,  as  early  as  this?  Vy,  dot's  impossible," 
protested  the  doctor. 


THE    LURE  51 


Sylvia  turned  and  looked  significantly  at  the  doc- 
tor. Her  little  bit  of  pantomime  he  interpreted  very 
quickly  and  changed  his  tone. 

"Ah,  yes ;  I  remember  now.  They  do  close  early 
some  nights.  I  forgot  about  that.  Vot's  coming 
over  this  old  memory  of  mine?" 

"I  am  sorry  you  had  the  trip  for  nothing,  my 
dear,"  said  the  mother. 

"Never  mind,  momsey,  the  walk  did  me  a  lot  of 
good.  I  needed  the  air,  and " 

"Oh,  but  my  dear  child,"  expostulated  the  mother, 
"why  didn't  you  go  on  the  car?" 

"It  had  been  stifling  in  the  store  all  day  and,  as  I 
tell  you,  I  wanted  the  exercise." 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  too  much  exercise,"  de- 
clared the  doctor  impulsively. 

Sylvia  threw  him  a  glance  which,  if  it  had  been 
put  into  words,  would  have  said:  "Doctor,  dear, 
won't  you,  for  heaven's  sake,  please  shut  up?  Don't 
let's  discuss  this  before  mother,"  but  what  she  really 
said  was :  "Not  for  young  people,  when  you're  shut 


52  THE    LURE 


up  indoors  all  day,  there  is  nothing  like  a  good,  long 
walk  to  put  you  on  your  feet  again." 

"Of  course,  of  course,  my  dear,"  returned  the 
doctor,  suddenly  changing  his  tone.  "Youth  must 
have  its  fling." 

The  doctor  caught  Sylvia's  eye  again.  He  real- 
ized that  she  was  anxious  for  him  to  get  her  mother 
out  of  the  room.  Somehow  instinct  told  him  that 
the  girl  had  bad  news  to  tell  him.  "But,  anyhow, 
they  should  sleep  a  lot,"  continued  the  doctor. 

"That's  right,  doctor,"  broke  in  the  mother.  "I 
just  wish  you  would  lay  the  law  down  to  her  a  little 
bit.  Sylvia  needs  it.  She's  so  busy  looking  after 
me  and  worrying  about  me  that  she  never  has  a 
moment  to  think  about  herself,  and  she  should 
think  of  herself  before  anything  else." 

"Dot's  right,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  vill 
lay  down  the  law  to  her  good  and  hard — on  one 
condition :  you  go  avay,  and  I  vill  do  it  right  now. 
I  haf  always  made  it  a  rule,"  he  exclaimed  jokingly, 
"never  to  give  a  lecture  to  a  daughter  vile  her 
mother  vos  around." 


THE    LURE  53 


"Ah,  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,  I  see ;  very  well, 
doctor,"  said  the  mother  rising,  "I  will  go,  as  long 
as  it  is  for  Sylvia's  good." 

"I  think  you'd  better,  momsey.  You've  been 
sitting  up  too  long  already.  Just  go  in  and  lie  down 
for  a  little  while,  and  presently  I'll  come  in  and  we'll 
have  a  good,  long  talk." 

"Thank  you  for  coming,  doctor,"  Mrs.  Jones  held 
out  her  hand,  "and  for  all  you've  done " 

"Never  mind  that,  you  go  to  bed,"  replied  the 
doctor. 

Sylvia  placed  her  arm  about  her  mother's  waist 
and  led  her  into  the  bedroom.  A  moment  later,  clos- 
ing the  door  behind  her,  Sylvia  turned  quickly 
to  the  doctor :  "Does  she  know?"  she  asked  quickly, 
almost  in  a  whisper.  The  girl's  face  was  ashen 
white  now.  She  leaned  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
for  support. 

"She  made  me  tell  the  truth,  my  dear,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"Did  she  ask  you  how — how  long  it  would  be 
before  the  end?" 


54  THE    LURE 


The  doctor  nodded. 

"And  you  told  her?" 

"Eferyt'ing — shust  like  I  told  you  last  night." 

Two  big  tears  welled  into  Sylvia's  eyes  and  rolled 
unheeded  down  her  cheek.  "Poor  little  mother," 
she  sighed. 

"Brave  little  mother,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  she  is  brave.  That's  what  makes  it  even 
harder.  She's  got  such  grit,  she  never  will  give  in. 
She's  always  so  cheerful  and  bright.  Sometimes  she 
almost  deceives  me.  I  can  hardly  believe  it's  true." 

"And  it's  brave  little  daughter,  too,  just  remem- 
ber," said  the  doctor,  as  he  patted  the  girl  on  the 
shoulder. 

Sylvia  raised  her  big  eyes  to  his  and  shook  her 
head  wearily.  "Not  brave  to-night,  doctor — not  I ; 
I'm  down  and  out — I'm  all  in!"  She  sank  down 
into  a  chair  in  a  little  heap  and  burst  out  crying. 
"It  just  seems  to  me  that  I  can't  stand  anything 
more.  I'm  just  desperate." 

"Did  you  speak  to  the  manager  of  the  store  to- 
day ?"  asked  the  doctor  very  gently. 


THE    LURE  55 


"Yes;  I  told  him  what  you  said  about  mother, 
and  how  terribly  ill  she  was,  and  how  necessary  it 
was  for  her  to  get  away.  I  asked  him  to  lend  me 
the  hundred  dollars  for  a  trip  to  the  country." 

"Yes?" 

"I  told  him  if  he  would  only  let  me  have  the 

i 
money  now  that  I  would  pay  every  penny  of  it 

back  to  him  within  a  year,  that  he  could  take  interest 
if  he  liked,  I  didn't  care  what,  so  long  as  I  got  it 
now.  I  told  him." 

"And  what  did  he  say?" 

"I  told  him  he  could  take  it  out  of  my  salary  at 
two  dollars  a  week." 

"Two  a  veek  from  six,  dot  don't  leave  enough," 
cried  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head  disgustedly.  "Six 
dollars  a  veek  ain't  no  salary,  anyhow — it's  shust  a 
tip;  but  vot  did  he  say  then?" 

"He  said  it  was  against  the  rules  of  the  store." 

"He  told  you  dot — dot  dirty  millionaire  loafer!" 
cried  the  doctor,  his  kind  little  eyes  fairly  blazing 
with  indignation. 


-56  THE    LURE 


The  girl  nodded  her  head  hopelessly  and  closed 
her  eyes.  "Yes,  that's  just  what  he  told  me." 

"Der's  alvays  a  rule  or  precedent  people  can  cite 
ven  dey  don't  vant  to  do  a  t'ing,"  exclaimed  the 
doctor. 

Stifling  her  sobs  and  drying  her  eyes,  Sylvia  re- 
sumed her  story.  "When  I  saw  it  was  no  use,  that 
he  wouldn't  let  me  have  the  hundred  dollars,  I  told 
him  everything,  just  how  desperately  hard  up  we 
were,  and  then  I  asked  him  if  he  wouldn't  please  let 
me  have  two  dollars  out  of  my  Monday's  salary.  I 
told  him  that  I  had  to  get  the  nourishing  things  you 
had  ordered — the  things  that  you  said  she  must 
have  to-night." 

The  doctor  smiled  a  little  ironically.  "I  am  glad 
you  told  him  that;  but  he  vouldn't  give  you  that 
even,  eh  ?  Oh,  I  know  that  kind — the  voods  are  full 
of  them.  I  guess  the  storekeeper  needs  the  three 
dollars  to  buy  an  automobile  vith.  But,  look  here, 
storekeeper  or  no  storekeeper,  we've  got  to  get  dot 
medicine.  She  must  have  dot  nourishment.  Vy 
didn't  you  get  the  medicine,  my  dear?  You  don't 


THE    LURE  57 


haf  to  pay  for  dot,  and  she  must  haf  it  to-morrow 
the  very  first  t'ing." 

"After  I  saw  it  was  hopeless  to  talk  any  more  to 
the  manager,  he  said  I  would  have  to  wait  for  my 
salary  like  the  rest  of  them,  I  walked  as  fast  as  I 
could  down  to  the  dispensary.  It's  a  long  way,  you 
know — nearly  two  miles,  and  I  couldn't  afford  to 
take  a  car,  and  when  I  got  there,  and  showed  the  slip 
on  which  you  had  written  the  names  of  those  medi- 
cines, the  clerk  looked  me  up  and  down,  and  what 
do  you  think  that  beast  said  to  me:  'You've  got  a 
nerve  to  come  here  and  ask  for  expensive  medicines 
like  that  at  a  free  dispensary.  What  do  you  think 
we  are,  philanthropists  ?' ' 

"The  dirty  brute !"  gasped  the  doctor. 

"I  begin  to  understand  now,"  said  Sylvia,  "why 
so  many  poor  girls  would  rather  die  at  home  than 
go  to  one  of  the  free  hospitals,  if  they  are  one-half 
as  bad  as  the  dispensaries,  I  don't  blame  them.  This 
so-called  charity  is  so  cold  it  fairly  hurts  you." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  doctor  commiserat- 


58  THE    LURE 


ingly;  "but  vot  are  ve  going  to  do?  Ve  must  get 
dot  medicine  some  vay." 

"Then  I  went  to  a  drug  store.  They  told  me  this 
prescription  would  cost  two  dollars  and  sixty  cents. 
I've  only  got  fifteen  cents,  doctor;  and  I  can't  get 
another  cent  till  Monday."  She  rose  from  the 
chair,  and  with  her  arms  folded  paced  up  and  down 
the  room  despairingly.  "What  can  I  do,  doctor? 
What  can  I  do?  I  can't  let  her  suffer  and  die  just 
for  the  need  of  it?  And  I  haven't  told  you  the 
worst  yet.  After  I  had  been  up  to  see  the  manager 
I  went  back  to  work  again  because  it  wasn't  quite 
six  o'clock,  and  while  I  was  there  I  got  my  notice, 
a  week  from  to-morrow,  I'll  be  out  of  work.  They 
are  laying  off  thirty  of  the  girls.  I  am  one  of  them." 

"But — vot's  the  reason?  Vy  is  it  for?"  ex- 
claimed the  doctor. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl  disconsolately. 
"Just  bad  luck,  I  guess — just  fate,  kismet — what- 
ever you  choose  to  call  it.  I  don't  know.  I  wonder 
what  it  is  about  me,  doctor,  that  always  brings  me 
such  bad  luck?" 


THE    LURE  59 


The  doctor  was  very  serious  now.  "Tell  me, 
Sylvia,"  he  said,  "tell  me  the  truth,  my  child,  vos  it 
in  this  case,  as  it  vos  that  time  before  at  Thimble's, 
the  time  ven  you  had  to  get  avay  on  account  of  the 
persecution  of  that  dirty " 

"No;  there  was  nothing  like  that  this  time,"  re- 
plied Sylvia  promptly.  Then,  after  a  second 
thought,  she  continued:  "At  least,  nothing  that  I 
could  prove  definitely.  There  was  one  of  the  floor 
walkers,  two  or  three  weeks  ago,  who  got  very 
fresh  with  me  one  night  just  as  I  was  leaving  the 
store ;  but  I  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear  which,  while 
I  think  he  remembers  it  very  well,  he  wouldn't  want 
to  talk  about.  No  one  was  there  but  ourselves 
at  the  time.  Of  course,  he  might  have  made  some 
trouble  for  me,  but  I  scarcely  think  so." 

"Ah,"  said  the  doctor  significantly;  "perhaps 
that's  the  milk  in  the  cocoanut.  Did  he  have  any 
pull  with  der  manager,  dis  fellow?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Sylvia ;  "but  then,  in 
those  shops,  we  girls  never  can  tell  who  is  and  who 
isn't  close  to  the  manager.  All  I  know  is  that  he 


60  THE    LURE 


has  left  me  absolutely  alone  ever  since.  He  has 
never  once  spoken  to  me.  In  fact,  I've  only  seen 
him  once  since  it  happened,  and  that  was  to-night, 
just  as  I  was  leaving  the  counter.  I  had  forgotten 
about  that  until  this  very  minute.  You  see,  I  was 
so  flustered  and  upset,  doctor,  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  was  doing;  but  I  remember  now  he  came 
across  the  aisle,  leaned  on  the  counter  and  began 
chatting  with  one  of  the  other  girls." 

"Did  you  hear  what  he  said  ?" 

"No,  not  exactly;  I  wasn't  listening.  In  fact,  I 
had  too  many  troubles  of  my  own  to  care  what  any- 
body was  saying  just  then.  It  was  something  about 
how  sorry  he  was  that  so  many  of  the  girls  have  to 
be  laid  off." 

"Huh !"  said  the  doctor. 

"Perhaps  he  did  do  it,"  said  Sylvia,  now  speaking 
in  a  tone  of  desperation.  "After  all,  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter very  much  whether  he  did  or  not.  The  impor- 
tant thing  is,  after  next  Saturday  I  will  be  out  of 
work,  and  I  will  have  to  look  for  another  place, 
and  what  chance  do  I  have  to  get  something  at  this 


THE    LURE  61 


time  of  the  year?  And  even  if  I  do  get  something 
to  do  at  the  same  wages,  it  won't  be  enough.  Oh, 
if  I  could  only  get  some  work!" 

The  doctor's  hand  slipped  again  into  his  waist- 
coat pocket,  and  drew  out  his  twenty-two  cents. 
With  the  coins  lying  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he 
walked  toward  Sylvia.  "Ven  I  vos  a  young  man, 
Sylvia,"  he  said,  "vonce  I  spent  a  hundred  dollars 
for  a  gold  vatch.  It  vas  a  fine  vatch,  and  I  think  it 
would  have  kept  very  good  time  if  I  had  it  long 
enough,  but  a  tief  picked  my  pocket  the  very  first 
night.  I  alvays  vished  I  saved  dot  money  and 
hadn't  bought  dot  vatch.  If  I'd  kept  dot  money,  I 
might  have  had  a  hundred  dollars  to  hand  over  to 
you  now,  my  dear,  with  all  my  heart,  but,  as  it  is,  I 
haf  shust  been  a  silly,  extravagant  old  numskull, 
and  vot  is  the  consequence?  Twenty-two  cents  is 
all  I  haf."  He  laid  the  coins  down  on  the  table, 
but  Sylvia,  profoundly  touched,  would  have  none 
of  them. 

"No,  no,  doctor,"  she  cried,  "I  couldn't  take  that. 


62  THE    LURE 


Besides,  you'll  need  the  money  almost  as  much  as 
we  do — in  your  own  way." 

"Very  veil,  den,  my  dear,  I'll  shust  keep  the  two 
cents  for  pocket  pieces,  and  you  keep  der  rest, 
please." 

"I  couldn't ;  you  need  it  just  as  much  as  we  do." 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  doctor  smiling,  as  he  glanced 
significantly  at  the  gas  jet;  "but  the  gas  meter  needs 
it  worse." 

"Please,  doctor." 

"I  guess  the  owner  of  the  gas  company  needs  a 
new  automobile,  too,  eh?" 

"Please  take  it  back,"  repeated  Sylvia  pleadingly. 

With  great  reluctance  the  doctor  picked  up  the 
two  pennies,  but  insisted  upon  leaving  the  two  ten- 
cent  pieces  lying  on  the  table.  "It's  all  right,  Sylvia, 
don't  you  vorry.  A  patient  is  going  to  pay  me  a 
half  a  dollar  to-morrow — dat  is,  he  said  he  vould, 
and  I  t'ink  perhaps  he  vill." 

The  girl  turned  impulsively  and  grasped  his  hand. 
"Doctor,  you  are  the  dearest  soul  in  the  world," 


THE    LURE  63 


she  said.  "If  they  only  had  your  kind  in  the  dis- 
pensaries." 

The  doctor  was  about  to  reply,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment there  was  a  sound  of  a  footstep  on  the  fire  es- 
cape. The  doctor  held  up  his  hand  warningly  and 
turned  toward  the  window. 

Sylvia  had  heard  the  footstep,  too.  "What  is 
that?"  she  asked,  a  little  alarmed. 

"Oh,  dot's  all  right,"  he  exclaimed  reassuringly. 
"I  t'ought  dot  vos  dot  Government  man  coming 
back." 

"Who?"  asked  the  girl,  not  understanding  him. 

"Vy,  dot  Secret  Service  fellow.  He  went  up  the 
fire  escape  about  some  business  shust  a  few  minutes 
before  you  came  in.  He  and  your  mother  and  I — 
ve  had  a  nice  little  talk.  He's  a  fine  fellow,  dot 
young  man.  Your  mother  liked  him,  too." 

"But  who  is  he?  What  on  earth  is  he  doing  up 
there?"  asked  Sylvia  curiously. 

"Oh,  he  vos  shust  looking  for  some  fellers  who 
he  t'ought  had  stolen  something.  I  hope  he  gets 
dem;  but,  vile  I  t'ink  of  it,  Sylvia,  let  me  ask  you 


64,  THE    LURE 


something,  my  dear.  Veil  as  I  know  you  both,  you 
and  your  mother,  ve  haf  very  seldom  talked  about 
our  families.  Has  your  mother  got  no  relatives  who 
might  help  you  ?" 

"No,  no ;  there  is  no  one.  We  haven't  heard  from 
any  of  our  relatives  for  years.  I  have  forgotten 
even  most  of  their  names.  Mother  seldom  speaks 
of  them." 

"But  your  father — hasn't  he  any  relatives,  who 
has  got  both  some  money  and  a  heart?" 

"I  know  even  less  about  father,"  answered  the 
girl.  "Mother  has  always  been  so  vague  about 
him.  I  think  he  must  have  treated  her  very  badly. 
He  went  away  or  something " 

"Huh!"  sniffed  the  doctor,  "fathers  and  husbands 
often  go  away — it's  a  habit  they  have.  Maybe  they 
wouldn't  go  if  they  knew  what  it  means  sometimes." 

Sylvia  was  facing  the  fire  escape.  The  light  from 
the  lamp  fell  full  upon  her  face  and  made  a  golden 
aureole  of  her  soft  brown  hair.  Outside  the  win- 
dow, but  unseen  by  her,  stood  MacAuley,  spell- 
bound, nonplussed,  so  amazed  at  the  sight  of  Sylvia 


THE    LURE  65 


that  he  stood  there  for  several  moments,  silent, 
petrified,  like  a  figure  of  stone.  He  could  not  take 
his  eyes  from  the  face  of  the  girl  as  she  stood  by  the 
table.  His  heart  gave  a  great  bound  at  the  thought 
that  he  had  found  her  again.  Then  suddenly  from 
the  far  room  came  the  sound  of  Mrs.  Jones'  voice 
calling,  "Sylvia!  Sylvia!"  Sylvia  turned  and  hur- 
ried to  her  mother.  The  spell  was  broken.  Mac- 
Auley  put  the  one  foot  which  had  been  suspended 
on  the  last  step  of  the  fire  escape  down  hard  on 
the  window  sill.  One  of  the  flower  pots  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  crash  and  smashed  to  atoms  on  the 
floor. 


CHAPTER  V 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I'm  awfully  sorry;  but  in 
spite  of  the  damage  I've  done,  may  I  still  come  in  ?" 
It  was  MacAuley  making  his  way  through  the  win- 
dow and  gazing  apologetically  at  the  doctor  in 
search  of  forgiveness  for  the  flower  pot's  untimely 
fate. 

"Oh,  iss  dot  you  ?"  exclaimed  the  doctor  genially. 
"Why,  sure,  come  in." 

"I  say,  I  am  awfully  sorry,"  continued  Bob.  "I'm 
a  clumsy  sort  of  chap,  anyway;  but  I  wouldn't  have 
smashed  that  geranium  pot  for  the  world.  I  always 
have  a  capacity  for  putting  my  foot  in  it,  which  is 
incurable.  Do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Jones  will  mind,  if 
I  atone  by  replacing  it  to-morrow  ?" 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  doctor;  "it  doesn't  matter 
at  all.  Vot's  a  flower  pot  more  or  less  ?" 

He  turned  toward  MacAuley  with  a  mischievous 
66 


THE    LURE  67 


smile.  "But  say,  I  t'ought  you  said  you  vos  a  Se- 
cret Service  man?" 

"You  wouldn't  think  so,  would  you?"  laughed 
Bob,  "to  judge  by  all  the  row  I  make." 

But  the  doctor  by  this  time  had  lost  all  interest  in 
the  flower  pot.  He  was  athirst  for  news — real 
news,  news  of  the  "White  Slavers."  "Tell  me,  did 
you  find  anything?"  he  asked  in  a  mysterious  half- 
whisper.  "Did  you  find  any  clews?  Did  you  get 
into  the  hotel  room  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  got  in  all  right,"  said  Bob,  stooping 
down  and  picking  up  the  fragments  of  the  flower 
pot. 

"Did  you  find  out  anything  about  the  little  girl  ?" 

"Yes,  several  things;  but  nothing  positive.  Still, 
I  am  pretty  sure  I  know  where  she  is  now  from 
something  one  of  the  cadets  in  the  room  let  drop. 
I  think  they  have  got  her  hidden  in  the  very  place 
where  I  thought  she  was.  In  the  house — the  Wav- 
erly  Club,  which  is  run  by  a  woman  called  Madam 
Katherine  Lockwood." 


68  THE    LURE 


"Goot!  goot!"  cried  the  doctor  excitedly.  "Do 
you  think  you  can  get  her  out  ?" 

"If  I  ever  can  get  inside  there  I  can  get  her  out  all 
right,"  answered  MacAuley  confidently;  "but  it  is 
about  the  hardest  place  in  the  whole  town  to  get 
into.  This  woman,  Katherine  Lockwood,  is  about 
the  foxiest  crook  in  this  entire  town.  She  is  under 
the  protection  of  Jim  Wilson,  the  politician.  Well, 
of  course,  you  know  the  sort  of  a  pull  that  a  man 
like  that  has  got.  But  this  Lockwood  woman  is  a 
perfect  wonder.  In  all  the  three  years  that  I've  been 
engaged  in  White  Slave  work  I  have  never  even 
been  able  to  set  eyes  on  her.  I  don't  know  even 
what  she  looks  like,  except  in  a  vague  sort  of  way. 
She  is  not  in  the  Rogues'  Gallery.  She  has  never 
been  convicted  of  anything.  The  police  have  noth- 
ing on  her.  I  guess  they  don't  want  to  get  anything 
on  her.  They  know  better  than  to  make  trouble  for 
any  of  Mr.  Jim  Wilson's  protegees,  and  you  can't 
blame  them,  after  all.  Poor  devils,  they  have  got 
to  look  out  for  their  own  skins,  and  Jim  Wilson 


THE   LURE  69 


would  break  any  copper  who  dared  to  point  so 
much  as  a  finger  at  that  woman." 

"But  vot  is  she  like,  this  voman?"  queried  the 
doctor.  "From  vot  you  say  she  must  be  a  vonder." 

"She  is,"  continued  Bob.  "She  is  far  and  away 
the  cleverest  woman  in  the  underworld.  A  type 
like  this  woman  just  goes  to  show  you  what  blood 
will  do  when  it  goes  wrong." 

"Vot  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  doctor,  puzzled. 

"Well,  this  Lock  wood  woman  comes  of  very  good 
people.  She  is  splendidly  educated,  and  from  what 
I've  heard  of  her  and  her  achievements  in  the  White 
Slave  line  she  must  have  a  splendid  brain.  The 
story  around  town  is  that  Wilson  ran  across  her 
when  she  was  a  very  young  girl  living  at  home  in 
a  small  town.  She  ran  away  with  him  and  lived 
under  his  protection  for  several  years.  That  was 
twenty  years  or  more  ago,  of  course.  Her  wit  and 
her  beauty  in  those  days  made  her  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  figures  in  the  half-world.  She  was  the 
'Toast  of  the  Tenderloin'  at  one  time,  they  say. 
Then  Wilson  grew  tired  of  her  and  married — mar- 


70  THE    LURE 


ried  a  charming,  lovely  woman,  too.  You'll  see  her 
name  high  up  on  the  list  of  all  the  most  deserving 
charities.  When  Wilson  chucked  her  the  Lock- 
wood  woman  was  far  too  clever  to  quarrel  with  him. 
In  business  they've  been  partners  ever  since.  Some 
years  ago  she  married  a  rotten  little  cadet  named 
Paul  Laf  arge,  but  she  always  insists  on  being  known 
by  her  old  name  of  Lock  wood.  She  and  this  La- 
farge  creature  run  a  downtown  establishment  which 
is  known  as  the  Waverly  Club.  Uptown  the  Lock- 
wood  woman,  during  the  day,  runs  an  employment 
agency.  The  employment  agency,  of  course,  is  a 
sort  of  a  blind,  but  it  serves  her  purpose  remarkably 
well;  but  the  most  curious  part  of  it  all  is  that, 
though  she  and  her  business  are  perfectly  well 
known,  there  is  not  a  detective  living  who  has  been 
able  to  get  anything  on  her.  She  is  a  fox,  I  tell 
you,  and  as  wise  as  an  owl." 

At  that  moment  Sylvia  entered  the  room.  At 
sight  of  MacAuley  she  stopped  short  at  the  door 
and  gave  a  little  gasp  of  astonishment.  "Why,  how 


THE    LURE  71 


do  you  do?"  she  exclaimed,  trying  hard  to  conceal 
her  amazement  from  the  doctor. 

"How  do  you  do?  This  is  an  unexpected  pleas- 
ure," said  MacAuley,  blushing  furiously  and  com- 
ing toward  her  with  outstretched  hand. 

It  was  the  doctor's  turn  to  look  amazed  now. 
"Vot,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  watched  them  shaking 
hands,  "you  know  each  other  already  yet?  How  is 
dot?" 

"Just  an  odd  coincidence,"  stammered  Bob,  still 
blushing.  "Miss  Jones  and  I  have  had  a  bowing 
acquaintance  for  some  time.  She  used  to  choose  all 
my  mother's  silk  stockings  for  me  when  she  was  at 
the  store." 

"Oh,  were  they  for  your  mother  ?"  exclaimed  Syl- 
via, glad  of  any  chance  to  escape  any  further  ex- 
planation to  the  doctor.  "You  never  told  me  that. 
Why  didn't  you?" 

"How  could  I,"  smiled  Bob.  "You  were  always 
so  short  with  me.  You  never  gave  me  even  half  a 
chance  to  say,  'How  do  you  do?'  But  I  say,  I  am 
awfully  sorry  about  your  flower  pot,  Miss  Jones. 


72  THE    LURE 


I  have  just  been  telling  the  doctor  that  if  you  will 
allow  me  I  should  like  to  send  you  another  one  to- 
morrow." 

"The  flower  pot?"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  not  under- 
standing. "Oh,  was  that  the  crash  that  I  heard 
when  I  was  in  my  mother's  room  just  now?  But 
how  did  you  come  to  break  it?  What  were  you 
doing  in  our  window  ?" 

"I  was  stepping  in  from  the  fire  escape  very 
clumsily  as  usual,  and  my  foot  slipped,  as  the  best 
of  feet  will  sometimes,  and — well,  I  just  broke  your 
flower  pot." 

"Oh "  and  Sylvia  was  all  smiles  now.  "Then 

you're  the  Secret  Service  man  the  doctor  was  telling 
about.  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  detective." 

"Didn't  you?"  said  MacAuley  rather  blankly. 

"Why  no,  how  could  I  ?"  laughed  Sylvia,  echoing 
his  remark. 

"Didn't  Miss  Emma  tell  you?  Why,  I  thought 
she  told  you  everything." 

"What  made  you  think  that?" 

"Why,  she  was  so  fond  of  you.     She  always 


THE    LURE  73 


talked  about  you  so  enthusiastically.  To  tell  you  the 
honest  truth,"  he  continued,  and  again  he  blushed, 
"that  was  the  reason  why  I  used  to  buy  even  more 
gloves  than  I  did  silk  stockings.  She'd  always  talk 
about  you." 

"Veil,  vot  do  you  t'ink  of  dot?"  exclaimed  the 
doctor,  only  too  delighted  to  realize  that  he  was  wit- 
nessing the  beginning  of  a  love  affair. 

"Excuse  me,  Sylvia,  just  for  a  moment,  my  dear," 
continued  the  doctor.  "If  you  will  give  me  a  spoon 
I  t'ink  it  is  time  now  for  me  to  go  and  fix  your 
mother's  medicine.  Besides,"  he  added,  confiden- 
tially, "there  is  a  little  matter  vot  I  vant  to  talk  to 
her  about,  if  you  can  give  us  shust  about  ten  min- 
utes to  ourselves." 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  doctor  MacAuley 
turned  to  Sylvia.  "Well,  well!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
face  fairly  glowing,  "it's  been  a  long  time,  hasn't 
it?" 

"Yes,  quite  a  long  time,"  said  Sylvia ;  "almost  a 
year." 

"Did  I  frighten  you  when  I  came  in  just  now?" 


74  THE    LURE 


"No,  I  wasn't  frightened;  you  dumfounded  me. 
I  never  was  so  astonished  in  my  life." 

"Well,  it  was  your  fault.  You  know  that  I  broke 
the  flower  pot,"  laughed  MacAuley. 

"My  fault?"  echoed  Sylvia.  "How  was  that?  I 
didn't  even  know  you  were  here — never  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing." 

"Well,  if  you  hadn't  been  looking  straight  at  me 
that  way  I  wouldn't  have  stepped  on  the  flower 
pot." 

"I  wasn't  looking  at  you,"  reiterated  Sylvia.  "I 
never  saw  you.  I  didn't  dream  there  was  any  one 
on  the  fire  escape." 

"Well,  I  had  been  out  there  several  minutes  look- 
ing at  you,  just  the  same." 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  fair,"  said  Sylvia. 

Bob  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled  again. 
"No,  I  guess  you  are  right,  perhaps  it  wasn't ;  but  I 
couldn't  resist  the  temptation.  There  must  be  a 
streak  of  Paul  Pry  in  me  somewhere.  I  suppose, 
because  I  love  to  watch  people's  faces  when  they 
don't  know.  The  truth  comes  out  then." 


THE    LURE  75 


"The  truth?"  said  Sylvia;  "that  sounds  interest- 
ing. What  truths  about  me  did  my  face  reveal  to 
you?" 

"None  that  I  didn't  know  already,"  answered  Bob 
more  seriously.  "None  that  I  didn't  know  the  first 
time  I  ever  saw  you.  Some  day,"  he  continued — • 
"not  now,  because  it  will  take  too  long,  and  I  have 
got  to  tear  myself  away  and  get  to  work — but  some 
day,  if  you'll  only  let  me  know  you  better,  now  that 
we  have  been  more  conventionally  introduced,  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  the  extraordinary  thing  I  did  after 
seeing  your  face  for  the  first  time." 

"Really,"  smiled  Sylvia,  "what  did  you  do?" 

"Well,  to  cut  it  short,  I  went  across  the  street  to 
a  jewelry  shop  and  I  paid  forty-six  dollars  for  a 
silver  picture  frame,  and  there  it  stands  on  my  man- 
telpiece to  this  day  and  hour — empty!" 

Sylvia  burst  out  laughing.  "But  what's  that  got 
to  do  about  me?" 

"We'll  talk  of  that — if  you'll  let  me — another 
day,  besides,  I  have  got  another  confession  to  make 


76  THE    LURE 


about  the  window,  and  why  I  stood  so  long  there 
watching  you." 

" What  is  that?" 

"I  liked  the  picture  you  made  standing  there  by 
the  table  with  the  lamplight  on  your  face ;  at  least  I 
did,"  he  continued,  "until  I  noticed  the  little  worry 
lines,  and  when  I  saw  them  I  couldn't  bear  to  think 
of  your  being  troubled  in  any  way,  and  so  I  put  my 
foot  down  hard  and  smashed  that  pot  of  yours. 
What  I  really  meant  to  do  was  to  walk  right  into 
this  room  and  say  to  you,  'for  goodness  sake,  don't 
worry,  there  isn't  anything  in  the  world  worth  wor- 
rying about.' ' 

"That's  easy  enough  to  say,"  replied  Sylvia  a  lit- 
tle bitterly;  "but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  do,  I  assure 
you." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  easy  to  do,  too.  It  can  be  demon- 
strated mathematically  that  it  requires  much  more 
energy  to  worry  than  it  does  not  to." 

"Demonstrated  by  somebody,  no  doubt,  who  has 
nothing  to  worry  about." 

"Oh,  pardon  me,  quite  the  contrary.    Why,  I've 


THE    LURE  77 


even  demonstrated  it  myself.  It  was  only  to-day, 
less  than  ten  minutes  ago,  that  I  became  converted 
to  this  theory.  Why,  will  you  believe  me,  for  nearly 
a  year  I've  been  worrying  myself  perfectly  sick 
about  something;  but  what  was  the  use,  the  matter 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  fates,  and  the  fates  have 
proved  to  me  within  the  last  ten  minutes  that  I 
hadn't  the  least  cause  to  worry." 

"And  this  wonderful  thing  that  the  fates  demon- 
strated to  you  on  my  fire  escape,"  said  Sylvia  play- 
fully, "what  was  that,  if  I  may  ask?" 

MacAuley  looked  her  full  in  the  face  and  smiled. 
"It  was  you,"  he  said  bluntly. 

"Me?" 

"Yes,  you !  Why  not  ?  You  deserted  me  basely, 
didn't  you  now?  Never  leaving  a  trace  or  an  ad- 
dress behind  you.  Of  course,  I  knew  that  you  would 
know  I  would  pump  Miss  Emma ;  but  why  were  you 
so  cruel?  Why  did  you  make  her  promise  not  to 
tell  me  a  single  word?" 

"I  didn't  want  any  one  to  know  where  I  had 
gone,"  said  Sylvia.  "There  were  business  reasons 


78  THE    LURE 


— reasons  that  had  nothing  in  any  way  to  do  with 
you;  but  as  I  was  making  a  clean  slate  of  break- 
ing new  ground,  as  it  were,  I  thought  it  was  much 
wiser  not  to  give  any  one  my  new  address ;  but  I 
always  looked  forward  to  seeing  you  again  some- 
where— really,  I  did." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Bob,  "because,  you 
know,  another  thing  that  worried  me  was  that  per- 
haps I  had  been  bothering  you  too  much  buying 
silk  stockings  for  my  relatives,  and  that  you  had  left 
in  order  to  get  rid  of  me  permanently;  and  yet  I 
couldn't  see  exactly  what  I  had  ever  done  to  annoy 
or  offend  you.  As  I  remember  our  few  conversa- 
tions, the  only  request  I  ever  made  of  you  was  that  I 
might  call  at  your  house  and  meet  your  people." 

"That's  perfectly  true,"  said  Sylvia.  "I've  never 
forgotten  that,  and  all  the  time  that  I  refused  to  let 
you  I  was  wishing  in  my  heart  that  you  could  have 
come;  but  how  could  I  ask  any  one  down  here  to 
meet  my  dear  mother  in  such  a  wretched  place." 

"Ah,"  cried  Bob ;  "but  that's  where  the  fates  come 
in  again,  you  see.  You  wouldn't  let  me  meet  your 


THE    LURE  79 


mother,  and  yet  here  we  are,  she  and  I,  quite  old 
friends  already,  and  you  have  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  We  were  perfectly  helpless,  you  see — you 
and  I.  The  fates  have  decreed  that  we  have  got  to 
be  friends." 

"It  does  seem  odd  and  funny,  doesn't  it,"  said 
Sylvia,  ruminatingly,  "that  we  should  have  been 
thrown  together  again  like  this?  I  wonder  if  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  Fate?" 

"Of  course  there  is !"  exclaimed  Bob  emphatically. 
"Why,  haven't  to-day's  events  absolutely  proved  it  ? 
Of  course,  you  know,  if  I  had  chosen  to  use  my 
powers  as  a  detective  I  could  have  run  you  down  in 
less  than  a  week;  but  what  good  would  that  have 
done  me  ?  I  realized  that  even  then,  but  I  wouldn't 
do  it,  and  now,"  he  added  triumphantly,  "haven't 
the  subsequent  proceedings  proved  that  in  this  in- 
stance I  was  a  very  wise  man?" 


CHAPTER   VI 

"Did  I  really  look  so  worried  when  you  were 
watching  me  through  the  window?"  asked  Sylvia 
presently. 

They  were  sitting  at  the  table  now,  chatting  away 
as  though  they  had  known  each  other  for  years. 
For  the  moment  MacAuley  had  let  his  white-slave 
work  go  hang,  and  Sylvia  gaining  courage,  just  as 
her  mother  had  done  before  her  from  the  buoyant 
personality  of  this  young  man,  seemed  instinctively 
to  be  letting  her  own  immediate  troubles  lie  dormant 
for  the  moment.  The  color  had  come  back  into  her 
face  again.  There  were  none  of  those  worry  lines, 
as  Bob  had  called  them,  in  evidence  now.  Now  and 
then,  in  answer  to  some  of  his  sallies,  Sylvia 
laughed  almost  as  light-heartedly  as  though  she 
hadn't  a  sorrow  or  a  care  on  earth,  and  the  sound 

of  their  voices  and  laughter  was  as  music  to  the 

80 


THE    LURE  81 


ears  of  the  mother  and  the  old  doctor  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room. 

"Listen  to  'em,  listen  to  'em,"  exclaimed  the  doc- 
tor to  his  patient.  "It's  good  to  hear  'em.  There 
is  nothing  so  bracing  for  old  peoples  as  to  hear 
young  peoples  enjoying  themselves ;  so,  if  you  don't 
mind,  Mrs.  Jones,  I  t'ink  I'll  just  sit  in  here  quietly 
with  you  for  another  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  Syl- 
via don't  have  company  efery  day.  Let's  give  'em 
a  fine  chance  to  get  really  well  acquainted." 

MacAuley  meanwhile  was  answering  Sylvia's 
questions.  "Worried,  I  should  say  you  did  look 
worried ;  but  you  are  not  going  to  worry  any  more, 
are  you?  Flowers  never  grow  along  the  road  to 
worry,  you  know." 

"Nor  anywhere  else  for  some  people,"  sighed 
Sylvia. 

"Oh,  yes,  they  do,  if  you'd  only  look  for  them." 

"You  and  the  doctor  are  alike,"  laughed  Sylvia. 

"You  mean  he  preaches  optimism,  too  ?" 

"Yes,  that's  it,  optimism.  That's  the  wonderful 
thing  about  the  doctor.  He  is  his  own  best  tonic, 


82  THE    LURE 


and  that's  one  of  the  things  that  mother  likes  so 
much  about  you,  Mr.  MacAuley.  She  says  that  you 
are  one  of  those  who  always  look  on  the  bright  side 
of  things." 

"When  did  she  tell  you  that?"  asked  Bob  eagerly. 

"Why,  just  a  little  while  ago — before  you  came 
in.  She  was  speaking  of  your  earlier  visit,  and,  of 
course,  she  hadn't  the  least  idea  that  I  knew  you 
then,"  laughed  Sylvia.  "So,  you  see,  she  was  quite 
unprejudiced.  She  simply  said  to  me  that  a  young 
detective,  a  Secret  Service  man,  had  called,  and  that 
she  thought  he  was  one  of  the  most  cheerful  persons 
that  she  had  met  in  a  very  long  time." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Bob,  jokingly,  "if  you  can  only 
induce  your  mother's  daughter  to  think  as  well  of 
me  as  that,  I  see  no  reason  why  you  and  I  could  not 
become  great  friends,  even  if  our  first  acquaintance 
did  start  so  austerely.  Tell  me  now,"  he  went  on, 
lowering  his  voice,  "what  were  you  really  worrying 
about  just  now?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know?"  asked  Sylvia. 

"Surely." 


THE    LURE  83 


"Well,  I'll  tell  you  then,"  continued  Sylvia  as 
though  not  quite  certain  whether  she  really  would 
or  not. 

"Honest  Injun — no  subterfuges?" 

"Of  course  not ;  the  perfect  truth — nothing  else," 
laughed  Sylvia. 

"Well,  then,"  MacAuley  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

Sylvia  drew  a  long  breath.  "Well,  if  you  must 
know,  I  was  worrying  about  not  being  able  to 
change  these  two  dimes  into  a  quarter  coin  for  the 
gas  meter." 

"Oh?"  said  Bob,  rather  blankly. 

"You  see,  I  was  tired,"  explained  Sylvia,  "and  as 
I  had  no  more  change  I  should  have  had  to  go  all 
the  way  down  to  the  corner  store  before  I  could 
change  a  bill." 

Bob  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  "I  take  it 
all  back,"  he  exclaimed.  "You  certainly  have  some- 
thing to  worry  over." 

"Yes;  haven't  I?"  exclaimed  Sylvia.  But  there 
was  an  almost  hysterical  tone  in  her  laugh  which 
did  not  escape  Bob's  ear  for  an  instant. 


84  THE   LURE 


"Cheer  up,  relief  is  at  hand,"  he  cried,  and  thrust- 
ing his  hand  into  his  pocket  he  produced  a  quarter, 
which  he  presented  to  her  with  elaborate  ceremony. 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  said  Sylvia,  taking  the 
quarter ;  then  picking  up  the  two  dimes  she  dropped 
them  into  his  hand,  "ten,  twenty — wait."  She 
opened  her  bag  and  took  out  the  one  last  nickel. 
"Five.  There  you  are." 

While  she  was  searching  for  the  nickel  Bob,  in 
fun,  had  quickly  palmed  one  of  the  ten-cent  pieces. 
As  she  dropped  the  nickel  into  his  hand,  he  held  it 
there  as  though  expecting  more. 

"Isn't  it  right?"  cried  Sylvia  apprehensively. 
"Why,  I  thought  I  gave  you  two  dimes." 

He  flipped  his  hand  and  as  the  other  dime  came 
into  sight  Sylvia  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  "Oh, 
there  it  is — thank  goodness !" 

She  rose  and  moved  toward  the  gas  meter  with 
the  quarter  in  her  hand. 

"Can't  I  help?  Don't  you  want  me  to  light  it  for 
you?"  asked  Bob. 

"Yes,  please,  if  you  will,  when  I  turn  it  on/' 


THE    LURE  85 


He  dragged  a  chair  to  the  meter  and  assisted  her 
to  stand  on  it. 

She  dropped  the  quarter  in  the  meter.  There  was 
a  moment's  pause,  while  they  both  listened  for  the 
click. 

"Ready  ?"  cried  Sylvia. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Bob,  striking  a  match. 

The  light  loomed  out. 

"Thank  you;  that's  better,"  and  Sylvia  jumped 
down  from  the  chair. 

They  stood  facing  each  other.  "Will  you  answer 
me  one  more  question  before  I  have  to  go?"  said 
Bob. 

"Why,  yes,  if  I  can,"  smiled  Sylvia. 

"You  are  perfectly  sure  and  certain  that  your 
giving  up  your  position  at  the  store  had  nothing 
to  do  with  me  ?" 

"Certainly,  I  have  told  you  that  already." 

"I  know  you  did,  but  I  just  wanted  to  make  sure. 
You  see,  you  don't  realize  how  it  hurt  me  that  day 
when  you  refused  to  let  me  call  at  your  home." 

"But  I  have  explained  that,  too,  haven't  I  ?    I  was 


86  THE    LURE 


just  a  little  snob.  I  didn't  want  you  to  see  how 
circumstances  were.  I  can  see,  though,  how  unfair 
I  was  to  you  now.  I  am  honestly  sorry.  You'll 
forgive  me,  won't  you?" 

"Forgive  you?  Why,  there  is  nothing  for  me  to 
forgive.  You  had  a  perfect  right  to  choose  your 
friends."  Then,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he 
added :  "And  now  just  one  little  question  more." 

"Good  gracious,"  said  Sylvia,  "you  are  a  regular 
catechism !" 

"That  last  day  I  saw  you  at  the  store — the  last 
glimpse  I  got  of  you — a  woman  was  leaning  across 
the  counter  talking  to  you.  I  saw  her  hand  you  a 
visiting  card.  Was  she  a  friend  of  yours?" 

"A  friend?  No,"  said  Sylvia;  "just  a  chance  ac- 
quaintance. How  funny  you  should  speak  of  her, 
though,"  she  continued.  "I  have  been  thinking  of 
her  all  the  afternoon." 

"Haven't  you  seen  her  since  that  day?" 

"No;  and  I  put  that  card  away  carefully  some- 
where. I  must  look  for  it  to-night.  I  can't  remem- 
ber either  her  name  or  address.  She  was  awfully 


THE    LURE  87 


sweet  and  kind  that  day.  I  had  been  telling  her 
that  I  wanted  to  get  some  extra  work  to  do  in  the 
evenings." 

"Oh,"  said  Bob  in  a  rather  relieved  tone;  "that 
was  it,"  and  he  changed  the  subject. 

"Well,  good-bye  until  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "I 
might  have  to  use  your  fire  escape  again  in  the 
morning.  Do  you  mind?" 

"Not  at  all ;  I  am  sure  mother  will  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

"And,  anyway,"  he  added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  "if  I  don't  need  the  fire  escape  I've  got  to 
bring  that  flower  pot.  I  shall  have  more  leisure 
then,"  he  continued  meaningly;  "and,  if  you  don't 
mind,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  my  reasons  then 
for  investing  in  that  silver  picture  frame." 

The  girl  laughed.  "Good  night.  You'll  be  wel- 
come any  time,  Mr.  MacAuley.  I  hope  you  catch 
your  man." 

"Vait  a  minute — vait  a  minute!"  said  the  doctor, 
coming  in  hurriedly  from  the  bedroom.  "I'll  go 
along  downstairs  with  you."  Then  turning  to  Syl- 


88  THE    LURE 


via,  "Make  your  mother  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  you 
can,"  he  told  her. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  two  men  Sylvia 
hurried  to  her  mother. 

"Mother,  dear,"  she  said,  "you  heard  what  the 
doctor  said;  it's  time  that  you  went  to  sleep." 

"But  I  am  not  a  bit  sleepy,"  she  protested ;  "and, 
besides,  my  dear  child,  you  haven't  had  anything  to 
eat  yet.  Let  me  get  up  just  for  a  little  while  and 
help  you  get  the  dinner." 

"Not  a  step,  mother,  out  of  your  chair  to-night. 
You  must  save  all  your  strength.  Dr.  Goldberg 
and  I  are  going  to  work  out  a  little  plan  for  that 
trip  to  the  country,  and,  besides,  I  could  not  eat  a 
thing  now.  I  have  got  something  very  important  to 
do." 

While  she  was  speaking  Sylvia  was  rummaging 
in  the  pigeon-holes  of  the  writing  desk  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  bedroom. 

"Oh,  thank  goodness,  here  it  is,"  she  exclaimed 
as  she  came  across  a  visiting  card. 

"Listen,  mother,"  she  continued  as  she  began  to 


THE    LURE  89 


pin  her  hat  on,  "I  have  got  to  leave  you  for  about 
half  an  hour." 

"Oh,  Sylvia,  you  mustn't  go  out  again  to-night. 
It's  so  late,  I  hate  to  think  of  you  being  on  the 
street  at  this  hour.  Please  don't  go." 

"But  I  must,  mother  dear;  this  is  business.  It's 
for  you,  mother.  I  have  got  a  chance — a  chance  to 
do  some  extra  work  at  night." 

"Working  all  day  in  the  store  is  enough  for  any 
woman,  Sylvia ;  you  must  not  do  it.  You  must  have 
some  extra  rest  or  you  will  break  down.  Whose 
card  is  that?"  she  exclaimed  apprehensively. 

Sylvia  handed  the  card  to  her  mother.  "It's  the 
card  of  Madam  Katherine  Lockwood,"  she  said. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"A  lady  who  used  to  come  to  the  silk  stocking 
counter  when  I  was  in  the  store.  She  is  a  busi- 
ness woman.  She  runs  an  employment  agency,  and 
one  day  while  we  were  talking — it's  almost  a  year 
ago  now — I  said  something  to  her  about  wanting 
to  get  some  extra  work.  She  was  awfully  sweet 
and  kind.  She  gave  me  her  card  and  she  told  me 


90  THE    LURE 


that  if  I  would  come  to  the  agency  she  was  quite 
sure  she  could  get  me  some  work  to  do  in  the 
evenings." 

"But  it  is  too  late,  my  child;  the  agency  will  be 
closed  now.  Why  go  to-night?" 

"No,  it  won't,  mother.  She  was  most  particular 
about  that.  She  told  me  that  her  agency  always 
kept  open  until  ten  o'clock.  Now,  don't  let's  argue 
about  it  any  more,  mother.  I  feel  that  I  must  go. 
If  I  don't  go  to-night  I  may  be  losing  a  chance  of 
making  a  lot  of  extra  money.  I  ought  to  have  gone 
long  ago.  But,  you  see,  I  lost  the  card  and  I 
couldn't  remember  her  name  or  address,  and  then 
to-night — why,  it  seems  just  like  Fate,  mother. 
Just  now,  while  Mr.  MacAuley  and  I  were  talking, 
he  brought  the  whole  matter  back  to  my  mind. 

"He  saw  the  woman  speaking  to  me  in  the  shop 
one  day,  and  to-night  he  asked  me  what  her  name 
was.  I  couldn't  remember,  and  now,  here  at  last, 
I've  found  her  card.  Why,  mother,  this  may  be  the 
very  means  that  God  is  taking  to  bring  better  luck 
to  us  at  last.  If  Mr.  MacAuley  had  not  mentioned 


"NO  HARM  HAS  EVER  COME  TO  ME,  MOTHER,  HAS  IT?"         p.  91 


THE    LURE  91 


her  I  should  never  have  thought  of  it  again;  but  I 
should  never  forgive  myself  if  I  missed  this  chance 
now,  so  you  must  let  me  go,  momsey — you  really 
must." 

"Wait  till  the  morning,  darling.  Please  don't 
go  to-night,"  her  mother  entreated. 

"But  to-morrow — I  won't  have  a  moment.  What 
chance  have  I  to  get  away  from  the  shop?" 

"It's  dangerous  for  a  girl  as  pretty  as  you  are  to 
go  out  alone  at  this  time  of  night,  Sylvia." 

"Nonsense,  mother;  don't  be  nervous  and  silly." 

"But  I  am  nervous,  and  I  am  not  silly,  Sylvia." 

"No  harm  has  ever  come  to  me,  mother,  has  it?" 

"Not  yet ;  but  there  are  pitfalls,  traps,  things  that 
you  don't  know  anything  about,  my  baby." 

Sylvia  was  drawing  on  her  gloves  now.  "Not  for 
any  girl  who  minds  her  own  business,  and  does  not 
invite  trouble,  mother.  I  know  that.  Don't  worry, 
mother."  Sylvia  leaned  over  and  kissed  her. 

"God  bless  you,  dear,"  said  the  mother. 

"And  you,  too,"  answered  Sylvia.  "Don't  worry, 
dear,  I'll  be  back  in  less  than  half  an  hour." 


92  THE    LURE 


After  leaving  her  mother's  room,  Sylvia  stood  a 
moment  lost  in  thought.  Then,  turning  the  handle 
of  the  door  resolutely,  she  stepped  out  once  more 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"Well,  that's  not  going  to  help  us.  We  are  all 
four  in  this  thing  right  up  to  our  necks — you  just  as 
much  as  any  of  the  three  of  us — so  I  wouldn't  be 
so  confident,  if  I  were  you,  Carrie." 

Madam  Kate  Lockwood,  seated  at  her  desk  in  the 
private  office  of  her  employment  agency,  was  in  a 
furious  state  of  mind.  Her  gestures,  her  actions 
and  her  language  all  betrayed  that  fact  unmistak- 
ably. She  was  a  woman  of  forty,  very  well  pre- 
served and  still  possessed  of  a  good  deal  of  that 
remarkable  beauty  for  which  she  had  been  famous 
twenty  years  ago.  She  acted  like  a  caged  tigress  as 
she  glared  at  her  colored  maid  Carrie  and  hurled 
at  her  woolly  black  head  a  veritable  shower  of 
curses. 

Carrie,  for  her  part,  was  extremely  calm.  The 
desk  at  which  Mrs.  Lockwood  sat  was  covered  with 

the  latest  editions  of  the  evening  papers,  and  in  all 

93 


94  THE    LURE 


of  them  huge  headlines  proclaimed  the  fact  that  a 
rich  banker's  daughter  of  Springfield,  Massachu- 
setts, had  mysteriously  disappeared. 

"Now,  what's  the  use,  Miss  Kate,  of  your  getting 
so  fussed  up  about  it  ?  Much  worse  things  than  this 
has  happened  to  us  before.  Seems  to  me  your  tem- 
perament gets  more  and  more  nervous  the  longer 
you  live.  Now,  with  me,  it's  just  the  other  way.  I 
grow  calmer  and  calmer  the  older  I  grows.  I  guess 
if  the  truth  was  known  at  heart  I  must  be  a  Chris- 
tian Scientist." 

"Shut  up,  you  fool !"  cried  Kate  Lockwood  furi- 
ously. "Haven't  you  any  sense  at  all?  God!  why 
doesn't  Paul  come?  I  shall  go  mad  if  he  keeps  me 
waiting  here  much  longer,  and  that  big  bully,  Jim 
Wilson,  I  never  can  lay  my  hands  on  that  man  when 
I  need  him." 

She  snatched  up  the  telephone  receiver  from  the 
desk.  "Hello!  hello!"  she  cried.  "Give  me  419 
Postley.  Be  quick,  please,  I  am  in  a  great  hurry! 
Hello!  Is  this  the  Waverly  Club?  This  is  Mrs. 
Lockwood.  Is  that  you,  Cora?  Yes,  yes,  this  is 


THE    LURE  95 


Mrs.  Lockwood.  Don't  you  hear?  Has  Mr.  Paul 
come  in  yet?  Well,  the  instant  he  does  come  send 
him  right  up  here  to  the  agency.  Don't  let  him 
wait  to  telephone  or  ask  any  questions.  You  tell 
him  I  said  he  should  come  here  at  once.  It  is  im- 
portant— very!  Tell  him  I  shan't  leave  here  until 
he  comes." 

She  lowered  her  voice  a  little  and  then  continued : 
"Everything  all  right,  Cora?  That's  good.  Don't 
admit  any  callers  under  any  circumstances  until  I 
get  there  to-night.  You  understand.  Listen,  Cora." 
She  dropped  her  voice  still  lower  until  it  was  almost 
a  whisper.  "When  Mr.  Paul  comes,  tell  him  to 
hurry.  Say  that  I  said  it  was  a  question  of  life  or 
death." 

She  hung  up  the  receiver  and  picked  up  one  of  the 
evening  papers,  but  her  hand  was  shaking  so  that 
she  could  scarcely  see  to  read  it.  The  woman  was 
white  as  death.  "For  heaven's  sake,  get  me  my 
smelling  salts,  Carrie,  quick !" 

"Come,  come,  Miss  Kate,  you  must  brace  up 
now,"  exclaimed  Carrie,  as  she  brought  the  salts. 


96  THE   LURE 


"I  never  seen  you  lose  your  nerve  so  quick  before." 
"I've  never  had  such  reason  to  lose  my  nerve  be- 
fore. You  talk  like  a  fool,  Carrie — an  idiot !  After 
all  the  years  you  have  been  in  my  employ,  can't  you 
realize  what  we  are  up  against  now  ?  Don't  you  see 
what  this  thing  means  for  all  of  us  if  the  police  get 
on?" 

"Pooh!"  said  Carrie  contemptuously.  "But  the 
police  ain't  going  to  get  on,  Miss  Kate.  You  know 
that.  Think  of  all  the  troubles  we's  been  in  before. 
You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do,  Miss  Kate,  that  Mr. 
Wilson  couldn't  afford  to  let  the  police  put  as  much 
as  a  little  finger  on  you." 

"This  is  a  case  that's  too  big  even  for  Jim  Wilson. 
It's  big  enough,  Carrie,  to  lead  all  four  of  us  almost 
to  the  electric  chair.  Do  you  realize  that  ?  Twice  in 
the  month.  Good  God!"  She  pressed  her  hands 
against  her  eyes  as  though  to  shut  out  the  sight. 
"And  each  time  I  blame  you  more  for  it  than  any 
one  else.  In  fact,  in  this  last  case  you  are  the  only 
person  who  is  to  blame  at  all.  You  were  the  only  one 
who  saw  her  when  Paul  first  brought  her  in.  Why 


THE   LURE  97 


didn't  you  watch  her  more  closely.  Good  Lord !  if 
I  had  the  slightest  suspicion  that  she  would  do  a 
thing  like  that  I  would  have  tied  her  up  and  never 
have  had  my  eyes  off  her  for  a  moment !" 

"What  did  I  have  to  suspect  her  for?"  expostu- 
lated the  girl.  "She  was  just  like  all  the  others  that 
Mr.  Paul  brings  in ;  only  quieter  than  most  of  them. 
I  thought  he  had  doped  her." 

"That  wouldn't  be  extraordinary.  Probably  he 
had,"  said  Kate  grimly. 

"Well,  how  was  I  to  know  then  ?" 

"Didn't  she  talk  to  you  at  all?  Didn't  she  say 
anything  about  herself?  What  did  she  say  about 
Paul?" 

"She  didn't  say  nothin',  not  a  word,  excep'  once ; 
yes,  I  remember  now.  She  asked  me  where  her  hus- 
band was,  and  when  I  asked  her  who  she  meant  by 
her  husband,  she  said  she  meant  the  gentleman  that 
had  just  left  her.  That  was  Mr.  Paul,  of  course. 
That  happened  the  first  day,  just  about  two  hours 
after  he  had  brought  her  in.  After  that  she  just  sat 
there  on  the  sofa,  dazed  and  dopey  like.  Sometimes 


98  THE    LURE 


she'd  cry  a  little,  but  not  for  long.  She  seemed 
sort  of  all  in;  but  she  never  said  a  word.  Never, 
after  that  first  time,  did  she  speak  to  me  once.  She 
had  a  wedding  ring  on  her  finger,  and  she  kept  turn- 
ing it  round  and  round  and  round.  Why,  Miss 
Kate,  she  was  so  calm  it  just  sort  of  gave  me  the 
jumps  to  watch  her.  If  she'd  even  fought  me  it 
would've  been  a  relief." 

"Poor  little  devil,"  said  Kate  Lockwood,  gazing 
into  space. 

"But  what's  the  use  of  worryin'  and  takin'  on  so, 
Miss  Kate?"  continued  Carrie.  "You're  that  ten- 
der-hearted an'  full  of  sympathy,  if  it  wasn't  for  me 
lookin'  after  you  and  keepin'  you  from  givin'  your 
sympathy  and  your  money  to  folks  that  don't  de- 
serve it,  you'd  just  let  yourself  get  all  run  down, 
both  in  your  pocket  and  your  health." 

"My  conscience  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet,  Car- 
rie," said  the  woman.  "I  almost  wish  I  was  in  that 
little  Springfield  girl's  place  right  now." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,  Miss  Kate ;  that's  bad  luck 
for  you.  It's  right  down  sinful  for  a  woman  that's 


THE    LURE  99 


got  all  you've  got  to  live  for  to  talk  that  way.  Let 
Mr.  Paul  do  a  little  of  the  worryin'.  Ain't  that  one 
of  the  reasons  why  you  went  and  married  him?" 

"One  of  them,  yes."  Kate  curled  her  lips  sarcas- 
tically. 

"You've  told  me  that  yourself,  Miss  Kate,  when 
I  expressed  my  surprise  that  you  should  marry  a 
man  so  far  below  you  in  the  social  scale.  I  remem- 
ber the  very  words  you  said:  'Carrie/  you  said  to 
me,  'it's  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  have 
some  one — some  man  to  take  my  business  responsi- 
bilities off  my  shoulders.  I'm  sick  of  facing  the 
music  all  the  time.'  Those  were  the  very  words  you 
said,  Miss  Kate." 

"Well,  it's  up  to  Paul  this  time,  and  to  Jim  Wil- 
son, too,"  remarked  Kate. 

"Take  it  from  me,  Mr.  Paul  will  do  no  worryin', 
he's  too  clever.  The  police  ain't  never  got  anything 
on  him  yet,  and  they  ain't  a-goin'  to.  Then  there's 
Mr.  Wilson.  He's  got  to  protect  you,  ain't  he? 
And  you  know,  Miss  Kate,  just  as  well  as  I  do,  there 


100  THE    LURE 


ain't  no  politician  in  town  has  got  as  big  a  pull  as 
Jim  Wilson." 

"That  reminds  me — I  must  call  him  up!"  ex- 
claimed Kate,  suddenly  becoming  business-like 
again.  "Look  up  his  house  number  for  me — not 
the  office,  you  fool!  I  know  that.  He  won't  be 
there." 

Carrie  picked  up  the  telephone  book  and  looked  at 
Kate  in  a  protesting  sort  of  way.  "But,  good  Lord, 
Miss  Kate,  you  ain't  goin'  to  telephone  to  his 
home?" 

"Why  not?"  asked  Kate  roughly. 

"Why,  you  never  done  that  before,  Miss  Kate; 
never  once,  since  the  day  he  got  married.  It  will 
make  him  powerful  mad.  You  know  that.  Don't 
get  him  all  riled  up,  Miss  Kate,  for  whenever  he 
gets  into  one  of  his  tempers  he  always  pours  it  all 
out  on  you.  I  wouldn't  do  that,  if  I  were  you,  Miss 
Kate,"  the  girl  continued  pleadingly.  "I  heard  him 
say  once  that  wife  of  his  never  has  got  her  ear 
away  from  that  phone." 

"This  is  no  time  for  me  to  think  of  his  wife," 


THE    LURE  101 


exclaimed  Kate.  "She's  bound  to  hear  about  this 
matter  sooner  or  later,  anyway,  poor  soul.  Shut 
up,  Carrie,  mind  your  own  business.  Get  me  that 
number  quick." 

"Well,  if  you  must  have  it,"  drawled  Carrie 
grudgingly,  "it's  Prairie  7824." 

Kate  snatched  up  the  phone  and  gave  the  number. 
"Hello!  Is  Mr.  Wilson  there?  Might  I  speak  to 
him  for  a  moment,  please?  It's  his  stenographer 
from  the  employment  agency  that  wishes  to  speak 
to  him." 

Kate  put  her  hand  over  the  mouth  of  the  phone 
and  turned  to  Carrie.  "What's  your  last  name, 
Carrie,  I  never  can  remember  it." 

"You  mean,  my  real  last  name?" 

"Of  course,  you  fool,"  scowled  Kate. 

"Well,  my  mother's  name  was  Rodman.  That's 
the  way  I  always  get  my  letters  addressed  here." 

Kate  made  a  gesture  of  silence.  "Hello!  Yes. 
He's  gone  out  just  a  moment  ago?  Oh,  I'm  so 
sorry.  When  he  comes  back,  will  you  please  tell 
him  that  Miss  Rodman;  yes,  R-o-d-m-a-n,  the  sten- 


102  THE    LURE 


ographer  at  the  agency,  called.  Yes;  that's  right. 
He'll  understand.  Please  say  that  there  are  two 
gentlemen  waiting  here  to  see  him  on  a  very  impor- 
tant business  matter,  and  say,  please,  that  I  will 
keep  the  office  open  until  he  comes.  Thank  you, 
Mrs.  Wilson ;  good  night." 

"Did  she  get  on  to  your  voice?"  said  Carrie,  bris- 
tling with  curiosity. 

"How  should  she  know  my  voice?  When  has 
she  ever  heard  me  speak  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  Miss  Kate.  You  know 
there's  something  about  your  voice  once  you  hear 
it  you  never  forget  it.  It's  such  a  beautiful  voice, 
Miss  Kate,  I  often  wondered  why  you  ain't  never 
gone  on  the  stage." 

"Stop  that  soft-soap  business,  Carrie,"  said  Kate 
sternly.  "My  head's  simply  splitting.  Like  a  good 
girl,  go  and  make  me  a  cup  of  strong  tea." 

"Oh,  Miss  Kate,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  drink  that 
tea  stuff,  you  know  it  always  gives  you  rheumatism. 
Let  me  fix  you  a  nice  little  absinthe  frappe.  That's 
the  best  thing  for  your  nerves,  mah  dear." 


THE    LURE  103 


"No  absinthe  for  me  to-night,"  cried  Kate.  "Get 
that  tea.  I've  got  to  keep  my  head." 

"How  about  closin'  up,  Miss  Kate?"  suggested 
Carrie,  loath  to  go. 

"I  wouldn't  dare  to — not  till  the  regular  hour. 
I've  got  an  idea  that  the  police  are  watching  the 
place  to-night,  and  if  we  were  to  close  a  moment 
earlier  than  usual  it  would  be  sure  to  arouse  sus- 
picion. Go  get  me  that  tea." 

A  moment  after  Carrie  left  the  room  the  door 
leading  from  the  outer  hall  opened  and  a  faded- 
looking  little  old  gentlewoman  stepped  into  the 
room.  She  was  very  plainly  dressed,  but  there  was 
something  of  distinction  about  her  which  immedi- 
ately caught  Kate  Lockwood's  eye.  It  made  her 
think  of  one  of  her  own  old  aunts  in  a  little  town  up 
state.  The  old  lady  was  plainly  embarrassed,  and 
though  Kate  was  furious  at  this  unexpected  inter- 
ruption, she  turned  to  her  quite  kindly  and  asked 
what  she  wanted. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  old  lady,  "but  I  am 


104  THE    LURE 


looking  for  employment.  Are  you  the  manager  of 
this  agency  ?" 

It  seemed  to  Kate  that  the  sound  of  the  little  old 
lady's  voice  was  the  most  soothing  thing  that  she 
had  heard  in  years. 

"Yes,  madam,  I  am ;  but  I  am  sorry  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  talk  business  to-night,  dearie.  You 
see,  I  am  just  closing  the  office.  If  you  care  to 
call  again  in  the  morning  I  shall  be  glad  to " 

With  a  weary  sigh  the  little  old  lady  turned  to 
go.  "Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  that  I  have  intruded," 
she  exclaimed;  "but  I  saw  by  the  sign  on  the  win- 
dow that  you  kept  open  in  the  evenings,  and  I  was 
so  lonely  and  so  worried  and  so  anxious  to  get 
something  to  do." 

"That  is  our  usual  custom,"  interrupted  Kate; 
"but  to-night  I  am  obliged  to  close  a  little  earlier.  I 
have  a  very  bad  headache.  Besides,  to  be  frank, 
even  if  we  were  to  talk  business,  I  am  afraid  I  have 
no  situation  just  now  which  I  would  care  to  ask  you 
to  accept.  You  see,  most  of  our  business  is  with 
servants." 


THE    LURE  105 


"Oh,  but  I  wouldn't  care  what  it  was,"  said  the 
little  old  lady  eagerly.  "I  would  be  willing  to  do 
anything — I  must." 

Kate  took  up  a  pad  and  pencil.  "Won't  you  give 
me  your  name  and  address?"  she  said. 

"My  name  is  Cecilia  Bliss,"  the  other  replied. 
"My  home  until  yesterday  was  in  Albany,  where  I 
lived  with  my  dead  sister's  two  children.  I  have  al- 
ways taken  care  of  them  since  they  were  babies,  and 
now  they  have  quite  grown  up  and  their  father  has 
sent  for  them  to  join  him.  This  afternoon  I  saw 
them  sail  away  to  Java,  and  it  wasn't  until  after  the 
ship  sailed  that  I  began  to  realize  that  now  I  am  all 
alone  in  the  world.  Of  course,  I  could  go  back  to 
Albany,  but  it  would  be  very  lonely  there  for  me. 
I  should  have  to  board  somewhere,  and  board  costs 
just  as  much  in  Albany,  I  guess,  as  it  does  anywhere 
else." 

"That's  true,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Kate,  nodding 
her  head  sympathetically. 

"So  I  thought  that  perhaps  in  this  great,  big  city 
I  might  find  something  to  do.  I  am  very  amenable, 


106  THE    LURE 


I  think.  I  used  to  speak  French  quite  nicely  when 
I  was  a  young  girl.  I  could  easily  brush  it  up  a  bit 
with  the  aid  of  my  old  Fasquelle,  if  it  were  neces- 
sary to  be  a  governess;  but,  for  my  own  choice,  I 
would  much  rather  have  some  sort  of  a  home, 
where  I  could  just  see  after  it  and  try  to  make 
everybody  comfortable  and  happy."  The  little  old 
lady  turned  to  Kate  with  a  wan  little  smile. 

"You  see,  nearly  all  my  life  I've  lived  in  other 
people's  homes — homes  and  the  making  of  them  for 
others  have  always  been  a  specialty  of  mine." 

"I  can  well  believe  that,  my  dear  lady,"  said  Kate 
very  gently.  "I  have  only  to  look  into  your  sweet 
face  to  see  it  written  there.  There  are  thousands 
and  thousands  of  families  longing  for  some  such 
gentle  spirit  as  you  to  make  their  domestic  affairs 
run  easily." 

Kate  paused  and  unconsciously  she  gave  a  great 
sigh. 

"But  unfortunately  they  don't  apply  to  my 
agency.  By  the  way,  before  I  forget  it,"  added 


THE    LURE  107 


Kate  in  a  more  business-like  tone,  "you  haven't  yet 
given  me  your  town  address." 

The  little  old  lady  looked  extremely  embarrassed. 
She  blushed  and  stammered.  Finally  she  said: 
"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear,  I  haven't  any. 
Perhaps,  if  it  wouldn't  be  too  much  trouble,  you 
might  recommend  me  to  some  very,  very  reasonable 
hotel.  You  see,  my  nephews  are  very  young,  and 
perhaps  a  little  thoughtless.  I  never  discussed  busi- 
ness affairs  with  them,  so  when  they  sailed  away 
to-day  they  had  no  idea  how  very  low  my  funds 
were." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Kate  most  sympathetically.  She 
rose  and  walked  over  to  her  desk.  There  was  a 
pause.  Kate  was  thinking  deeply.  The  little  old 
lady  followed  her  with  her  eyes.  Finally  Kate 
said:  "There's  a  very  quiet,  respectable  hotel,  the 
Martha  Washington.  It's  not  very  far  from  here. 
It's  exclusively  for  women.  I  shall  be  only  too 
pleased  to  engage  a  room  for  you  there,  if  you  would 
allow  me  to." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  mind  paying  for  it  now.     I'll 


108  THE    LURE 


take  it  out  of  your  commission  when  I  have  found 
you  steady  employment." 

"But,  my  dear  lady,"  protested  little  Miss  Bliss. 

"Not  a  word,"  said  Kate  smilingly,  holding  up 
her  hand.  She  opened  the  drawer  and  drawing  out 
her  purse  pressed  a  ten-dollar  bill  into  Miss  Bliss' 
hands.  "If  you  will  only  let  me  make  you  this  lit- 
tle advance  on  your  first  month's  salary,  I  should  be 
so  much  obliged  to  you.  You  can  have  no  idea  what 
it  will  mean  to  me,  if  you  will  accept  this  bill  as 
advance  payment,"  she  went  on  soothingly.  "I  have 
a  feeling  that  if  you  will  let  me  do  this  little  favor 
for  you  it  would  bring  me  luck." 

The  tears  welled  up  in  Kate  Lockwood's  eyes. 
She  turned  her  head  from  the  little  old  lady  and 
then  said,  almost  in  a  whisper :  "And  to-night  I  need 
luck  very,  very  badly." 

"But  are  you  quite  sure,  my  dear,  that  I  will  be 
able  to  repay  you  out  of  my  salary?  Is  it  at  all 
certain  that  you  can  get  me  a  position  ?" 

"I  shall  do  my  best,"  replied  Kate  confidently. 


THE    LURE  109 


"and,  if  I  can't,  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  have  been  of  a 
little  service  to  you." 

There  were  tears  in  Miss  Bliss'  eyes  now  as  she 
poured  out  her  simple  thanks  to  Kate  and  put  the 
ten-dollar  bill  in  her  old-fashioned  porte-monnaie. 

"God  must  have  sent  me  here  to  you.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  have  done,  my  dear.  You  have 
been  my  ministering  angel.  I  was  almost  penniless, 
and  so  very,  very  lonely.  May  I,  in  return,"  she 
placed  a  hand  appealingly  on  Kate's  arm  and  looked 
up  into  her  face,  "may  I  in  return  do  just  a  little 
favor  for  you,  my  dear?  You  seem  to  be  worried 
and  in  trouble.  You  said  just  now  you  had  a  bad 
headache.  May  I  not  take  it  away?" 

"Take  it  away,"  echoed  Kate,  a  little  bewildered. 
"Have  you  some  cure — some  patent  medicine?" 

The  little  old  lady  shook  her  head.  Her  face 
broke  into  a  smile. 

"The  oldest  of  all  cures,  my  dear.  Older  than 
all  the  patent  medicines." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Kate,  with  all  the  eager  curi- 
osity of  a  child. 


110  THE    LURE 


"Sit  down  a  moment,  my  dear — here  in  this  chair, 
and  I  will  show  you.  That's  right.  Now  let  your 
head  lie  back,  close  your  eyes." 

Miss  Bliss  stood  behind  her  and  placed  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  gently  upon  her  forehead.  A  peace 
such  as  she  had  not  known  for  years  stole  into  Kate 
Lockwood's  tired  brain. 

"There  are  many  names  for  this  cure  in  many 
different  countries,  but  I  like  the  old  name  of  it," 
she  said.  "They  used  to  call  it  the  laying  on  of 
hands." 

"The  laying  on  of  hands,"  repeated  Kate  drows- 
ily. "Ah,  yes,  I  remember  that  it's  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament somewhere,  isn't  it?  I  remember  reading 
about  it  when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

After  that  for  a  minute  or  two  no  word  was 
spoken.  At  last,  when  Miss  Bliss  raised  her  hands 
from  Kate's  forehead,  she  said :  "Sometime,  if  I  do 
get  a  position,  you  must  let  me  know  you  better. 
It's  strange,  the  moment  I  entered  this  room,  my 
dear,  I  realized  that  I  had  found  a  true,  loyal 
friend.  Some  day  perhaps  you  will  let  me  come  to 


THE    LURE  111 


your  house  and  see  you — just  a  little  friendly  call 
to  show  I  haven't  forgotten  your  great  kindness." 

In  an  instant  Kate  was  on  her  feet.  Her  face  was 
crimson.  "Oh,  no,  no!"  she  exclaimed,  moving 
away  from  the  little  old  lady.  "Thank  you  so  very, 
very  much,  but  that  would  be  utterly  impossible — 
quite  impossible.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you. 
I  am  so  glad  you  have  been  of  this  service  to  me, 
but — well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  husband  is  such 
a  peculiar  man.  He  never  allows  me  to  receive  vis- 
itors. You  wouldn't  like  him." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry.  I  shouldn't  have  asked  you, 
perhaps.  You  will  forgive  me,  won't  you?" 

At  that  moment  Carrie  entered  the  room  and  al- 
most dropped  the  steaming  cup  of  tea  she  was  bear- 
ing as  she  saw  the  little  old  lady  kissing  Kate  Lock- 
wood  on  the  cheek. 

"For  de  Lawd's  sake,  Miss  Kake,"  she  began ;  but 
Kate,  turning  on  her  sternly,  silenced  her  with  a 
glance  of  the  eye. 

"Carrie,"  she  said  with  authority,  "run  across  the 
street  and  call  a  taxicab — one  of  the  regular  taxis, 


THE    LURE 


not  the  one  we  usually  use.  I  want  you  to  put  this 
lady,  my  friend,  Miss  Bliss,  into  it,  and  tell  the 
driver  to  take  her  to  the  Martha  Washington  Hotel. 
Pay  the  fare  yourself.  Don't  forget  that.  And 
now,  Miss  Bliss,  good  luck.  I  am  very  glad  and 
honored  to  have  met  you,"  she  concluded. 

Five  minutes  later,  when  Carrie  returned,  she 
found  her  mistress  with  her  head  buried  in  her  arms 
on  the  desk,  sobbing  bitterly. 

"Foh  de  love  of  Gawd,  Miss  Kate,"  cried  Carrie 
in  a  fury  of  indignation,  "can't  I  leave  you  for  five 
minutes  alone  without  you  plunging  right  in  to  all 
this  damn  philanthropy?  Why,  if  it  wasn't  for  my 
tender  care  of  you  you  wouldn't  have  a  rag  to  your 
back,  or  a  penny  in  the  savings  bank.  It's  just  a 
reg'ler  sort  of  a  disease  with  you.  You  just  simply 
can't  keep  from  giving  away  money  to  peoples  that 
don't  deserve  it,  whereas  if  I  just  simply  ask  you 
for  a  raise  of  just  five  dollars  a  month  you  kick  just 
like  a  reg'ler  steer.  I'se  one  of  those  that  believes 
with  King  Solomon — charity  begins  at  home." 

"Shut  up,  Carrie,"  cried  Kate,  pounding  her  fist 


THE    LURE 


upon  the  desk.  "Shut  your  mouth  and  listen  to 
me. 

"To-morrow  morning,  if  that  old  lady  comes  here 
tell  her  I  can't  see  her.  I  must  never  see  her  again. 
I  couldn't  stand  it.  I'll  get  her  a  job,  if  I  have  to 
pay  some  respectable  person  to  engage  her.  I  did 
what  I  did  to-night  for  luck  and  because  I  couldn't 
help  it." 

"Well,  of  course,  it  ain't  none  of  my  business, 
but  in  my  opinion  that's  mighty  expensive  kind  of 
luck  playing.  I'd  rather  play  policy.  Now  hurry  up 
and  drink  your  tea." 

"Listen,  Carrie,"  said  Kate  a  moment  later,  "I 
am  going  to  one  of  the  private  rooms  to  lie  down — 
my  head  is  splitting.  The  instant  Paul  or  Jim  Wil- 
son comes,  you  come  in  and  wake  me.  You  under- 
stand. And  remember  also,  I  am  expecting  a  lot  of 
new  French  dresses  and  Japanese  kimonos.  I  got 
some  wonderful  bargains  at  an  auction  sale  this 
morning.  They  are  to  be  delivered  here  to-night  by 
messenger  boy.  Sign  for  them,  and  put  them  in 


114  THE    LURE 


room  No.  3.  We  can  take  them  down  in  the  taxi 
with  us  when  we  go  downtown  to-night.  But,  mind 
now,  wake  me  the  moment  either  of  those  men 
comes." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"Ah  never  did  see  anything  like  that  fool  Miss 
Kate,"  exclaimed  Carrie  to  herself  as  the  door 
closed  behind  her  mistress.  "If  'twasn't  for  me 
she'd  be  a  penniless  pauper,  that's  what  she'd  be, 
just  a  penniless  pauper,"  and  so  saying  Carrie  tip- 
toed cautiously  to  the  desk,  opened  the  drawer,  took 
out  Kate's  purse,  and  with  great  alacrity  extracted  a 
ten-dollar  bill.  This  bill  she  immediately  deposited 
in  her  left  stocking.  "That's  conscience  money," 
she  exclaimed,  as  though  excusing  herself  to  her- 
self. "Every  time  Miss  Kate  does  any  of  her  fool 
philanthropies  ah  always  makes  good  to  myself  with 
the  same  amount.  If  she's  goin'  to  give  anything 
away  at  all  it  ought  to  be  her  faithful  maid  an'  sec- 
retary." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door — a  knock  so  loud 

that  it  made  Carrie  jump  apprehensively  to  her  feet 
115 


116  THE    LURE 


and  drop  her  skirts  hurriedly  over  her  bank  account 

"Come  in !"  she  cried  in  a  still  small  voice. 

A  twelve-year-old  messenger  boy,  heavily  laden 
with  millinery  boxes,  entered. 

"Gee!"  gasped  the  youngster  out  of  breath,  but 
not  so  exhausted  that  he  couldn't  take  a  hasty,  curi- 
ous glimpse  around  the  room.  Carrie  caught  the 
look  and  watched  him  very  suspiciously  from  that 
moment. 

"Who's  goin'  to  get  dolled  up  in  all  these  glad 
rags?"  continued  the  messenger  boy.  "I  t'ought 
this  was  a  cook  shop."  He  turned  and  looked  Car- 
rie over  with  an  impudent,  half- joking  stare.  "I 
didn't  know  youse  was  runnin'  a  milliner's  shop." 

"This  is  an  employment  agency.  Didn't  you  see 
the  sign  on  the  door,"  answered  Carrie. 

"Well,  that's  all  right,  dinge,  don't  get  so  sore 
about  it.  I  was  just  thinkin'  how  dead  swell  some 
of  those  Irish  cooks  you  get  jobs  for  would  look  in 
some  of  these  glad  rags." 

"Give  me  your  receipt  and  get  out  of  here," 
snapped  Carrie. 


THE    LURE  117 


"Well,  you  needn't  get  mad  about  it — sign  here." 

She  snatched  the  book  from  him  and  signed  it 
hastily.  Carrie  was  in  no  mood  for  persiflage. 
"Now  you  get  out  of  here  quick,  and  no  more  back 
talk." 

"Good  night,"  cried  the  youngster  derisively,  and 
kissed  his  hand  to  her. 

Carrie  listened  while  the  sound  of  the  boy's  foot- 
steps died  away  as  he  passed  down  the  hall.  When 
she  heard  the  sound  of  the  front  door  slammed  be- 
hind him  she  stepped  inside  the  private  office  again 
and  closed  the  door.  "Don't  see  no  use  wastin'  all 
this  light  waitin'  for  them  two.  Like  as  not  it  will 
be  twelve  o'clock  before  they  get  here.  Ah  guess 
ah'll  take  a  little  sleep  myself,"  continued  Carrie, 
yawning.  "Ah  might  as  well  get  it  while  I  can." 
She  turned  all  the  electric  lights  off,  except  the  one 
reading  light  on  her  mistress'  desk.  A  huge  leather 
lounge  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room.  On  this 
Carrie  threw  herself  and  in  less  than  two  minutes 
was  fast  asleep.  But  her  siesta  was  a  short  one. 
In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  footstep  in  the 


118  THE    LURE 


hall  aroused  her.  As  she  sprang  to  her  feet  the 
door  of  the  private  office  opened  cautiously  and  a 
slightly  built  young  man  carrying  the  shrouded 
figure  of  a  girl  in  his  arms  entered  the  room. 

"That  you,  Mr.  Paul  ?  My  God !  how  you  star- 
tled me.  Who's  that  you  got  there  ?"  she  whispered. 

"None  of  your  business!"  he  hissed  gruffly. 
"Come  here  and  help  me,  you  black  fool." 

"What  are  you  goin'  to  do  with  her?  How  did 
you  get  in  ?" 

"By  the  side  door,  of  course.  Help  me  to  carry 
her  into  number  three." 

Between  them  they  carried  the  unconscious  girl 
across  the  passage  to  one  of  the  small  hall  rooms. 
They  laid  her  down  on  the  couch  in  the  corner, 
then,  after  watching  for  a  moment  and  seeing  that 
she  gave  no  sign  of  returning  consciousness,  Paul 
left  the  room  and  motioned  to  Carrie  to  follow  him 
into  the  private  office. 

Locking  the  door  behind  her  Carrie  followed 
him. 

"Where's    your    mistress?"    Paul    Lafarge    ex- 


THE    LURE  119 


claimed.  "Bring  her  here  at  once,  and  then  you  get 
out  in  that  hall  there  and  keep  your  eye  on  that 
girl.  She'll  be  coming  to  before  long." 

Carrie  flew  to  obey  him.  "Miss  Kate !  Miss  Kate ! 
Mr.  Paul's  here !  Get  up  quick !"  she  cried,  shaking 
the  sleeping  woman. 

Kate  sprang  to  her  feet  and  hurried  into  the  pri- 
vate office. 

"Oh,  Paul/'  she  cried;  "thank  heavens,  you've 
come  at  last.  Have  you  been  at  the  club  ?  Did  you 
hear  what's  happened?" 

"Yes,"  he  hissed  back  at  her  with  all  the  venom 
of  a  serpent,  "and  a  fine  mess  you  women  have  made 
of  this  thing.  My  God  Almighty,  if  we  swing  for 
this,  it  will  be  only  you  women  to  blame,  and  you 
don't  know  the  worst  of  it  yet." 

"Why,  what's  happened  now  ?"  gasped  Kate. 

"Why,  that  new  girl.  Nell,  the  one  I  married  last 
night  and  brought  down  to  the  club  early  this  morn- 
ing. Just  now,  when  I  got  down  there,  she  was 
beginning  to  realize  matters.  She  started  to  raise 
merry  hell.  I  was  afraid  to  risk  leaving  her  down 


120  THE    LURE 


there  under  present  conditions,  so  I  had  to  bring  her 
up  here." 

"You  didn't  hurt  her?"  cried  Kate,  apprehen- 
sively. 

"Hurt  her?  No!"  he  snarled.  "Just  made  her 
swallow  a  couple  of  silence  pills,  and  gave  her  a  lit- 
tle jab  in  the  arm  with  my  needle.  She's  all  right 
for  another  half  hour  at  least." 

"But  the  taxi — didn't  any  one  see  you  bring  her 
here?" 

"No;  that's  all  right.  I  had  Dan,  our  regular 
man.  Between  us  we  smuggled  her  in  through  the 
side  door.  Don't  start  worrying  about  that  now." 

Kate  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  a  world  of 
scorn  and  fear  in  her  eyes.  "Will  you  ever  learn 
moderation?"  she  said. 

"Cut  that  now,"  retorted  Paul  viciously.  "This  is 
no  time  for  that  finesse  stuff  of  yours.  Did  you 
think  just  because  the  little  Springfield  girl  has  given 
us  the  slip  that  I  am  going  to  let  this  other  one  get 
away  from  us  after  all  the  trouble  I  took  to  get 
her?  Not  on  your  life!" 


THE    LURE  121 


"Where  is  she  ?"  asked  Kate,  trembling  with  nerv- 
ousness. 

"She's  in  number  three  for  the  present,  and  that 
black  devil  of  yours,  Carrie,  is  watching  her.  We'll 
have  to  keep  her  there  till  morning." 

Kate  came  closer  to  him  and  looked  him  squarely 
in  the  face.  "Yes,"  she  said ;  "and  now,  how  about 
the  other,  the  little  Springfield  girl  ?  Have  you  seen 
the  evening  papers?  How  is  she  to  be  got  out  of 
the  club?" 

"Never  you  mind — Jim  and  I  will  take  care  of 
that.  I  have  to  get  a  drink — I  am  all  in." 

"Where  are  you  going  for  it?  There's  nothing 
here  but  some  absinthe,  and  I  shall  want  that  for 
myself  before  very  long." 

"Don't  bother.  I  am  going  across  the  street  to 
the  bar.  I  will  be  back  in  ten  minutes,  so  if  Jim 
comes,  make  him  wait." 

"You  hurry  back  as  quick  as  you  can,"  she  called 
after  him.  "I  am  in  no  condition  to  be  left  alone 
even  for  a  moment  to-night.  I  am  nearly  out  of  my 
mind." 


THE    LURE 


Kate  paced  the  floor  for  several  minutes,  then 
went  out  into  the  hallway  to  where  Carrie  was 
keeping  watch  outside  the  door  of  number  three. 

"Has  she  stirred  yet  ?    Has  she  made  any  noise  ?" 

"No,  Miss  Kate ;  she's  sleepin'  like  a  lamb.  Don't 
you  worry  now." 

Kate  returned  to  the  private  office  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor  once  more. 

A  few  minutes  later  Jim  Wilson  bounced  into  the 
room.  He  was  a  tall,  burly-looking  man  of  fifty. 
His  ruddy  face  was  almost  apoplectic  with  rage,  and 
his  bulldog  jaw  was  set  in  a  manner  which  boded  no 
good  for  Kate.  A  single  glance  at  him  told  Kate 
the  condition  of  his  temper.  Instinct  and  her  long 
and  bitter  experience  with  the  man  decided  her  to 
meet  him  in  his  own  mood  and  tense. 

Before  he  could  utter  a  word  she  had  turned  on 
him  furiously :  "Well,  it's  about  time  you  got  here. 
How  much  longer  do  you  and  Paul  imagine  I  am 
going  to  wait  here  alone  and  stand  the  brunt  of  all 
this  hellish  business  ?" 

Whatever  Wilson's  intentions  had  been,  Kate's 


THE    LURE  123 


angry  tones  calmed  him  down  instantly.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  almost  in  an  apologetic  tone.  "I 
should  think  that  you  would  know  by  this  time, 
Kate,  that  this  is  the  worst  time  in  the  whole  day 
for  me  to  get  away." 

"But  this  is  urgent  and  couldn't  wait  a  minute. 
We've  lost  hours  as  it  is  already." 

A  grim  look  came  into  his  face  as,  nodding  his 
head  at  her,  he  said  sternly:  "Well,  no  matter  how 
urgent  the  case,  no  matter  what's  at  stake,  don't  you 
ever  phone  me  again  at  my  home.  Do  you  realize 
that  that  was  my  wife  you  were  talking  to  on  the 
wire?" 

"Yes,  certainly  I  do,"  retorted  Kate.  "I  can't 
help  that;  I  don't  care  anything  about  her." 

"Well,  we  won't  discuss  that,"  said  Wilson,  with 
a  little  wave  of  his  hand. 

"Don't  worry,  I  am  not  anxious  to  discuss  her," 
snapped  Kate;  "at  least,  not  now,  anyway.  I  am 
too  upset.  There's  too  much  at  stake." 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  returned  Wilson,  with  a 
beaming  smile.  "That's  the  trouble  with  you  women 


124  THE    LURE 


in  this  sort  of  game.  When  the  least  little  thing 
goes  wrong  you  get  reckless,  you  lose  your  heads." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  sneered  Kate ;  "it's  too  bad  about 
us  women." 

"Haven't  I  always  told  you,  my  dear,  that  worry 
means  an  early  finish  ?"  continued  Wilson  patroniz- 
ingly. "Keep  a  clear  head.  Look  at  me.  Did  you 
ever  see  me  even  flustered?" 

"Yes,  look  at  you !"  sneered  Kate  again.  "A  fine, 
noble  specimen  of  a  man ;  and  as  for  that  early  finish 
you  talk  of — well,  perhaps,  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it 
isn't  the  one  thing  we  can  be  certain  of." 

Wilson  laughed  harshly. 

"Ah,  but  you  forget,  Kate,"  he  said  sarcastically. 
"You  can  always  reform." 

"Reform?"  she  echoed  bitterly.  "Reform,  re- 
form. I  could  not,  even  if  I  wanted  to." 

A  faraway  look  came  into  her  face.  She  turned 
and  looked  at  him  contemptuously. 

"Do  you  want  to  reform?"  asked  Wilson,  as 
though  he  were  speaking  to  some  foolish  child. 

"Yes,  sometimes,"  said  Kate,  very  seriously. 


THE    LURE  125 


For  a  moment  Wilson  seemed  to  catch  something 
of  the  seriousness  of  her  spirit. 

"I  guess  you  do  get  sick  of  it  once  in  a  while, 
Kate;  it's  a  pretty  rough  life  for  a  woman  after 
all." 

"Sometimes,"  repeated  Kate  pensively  and  as 
though  she  were  not  listening. 

Wilson  became  even  more  patronizing  as  he  con- 
tinued: "The  straight  and  narrow  does  look  good 
now  and  then,  don't  it?" 

"Yes,"  Kate  retorted  bitterly;  "after  you  and  I 
have  gotten  so  far  away  from  it  that  we  couldn't 
find  it  with  a  search  warrant." 

"Oh,  maybe  it  will  find  us  then,"  said  Wilson  with 
a  sardonic  smile. 

Kate  leaned  her  hands  on  the  desk  and  looked  at 
him  significantly.  "The  warrant  may,"  she  an- 
swered grimly. 

Jim  Wilson  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face  paled. 
"What  do  you  mean  about  warrant?  What's  gone 
wrong?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Plenty,"  said  Kate,  glaring  at  him. 


126  THE   LURE 


"Well,  why  don't  you  tell  me  about  it?  Why 
have  you  been  wasting  time  gabbing  foolish,  senti- 
mental stuff  here?  Damn  it,  woman,  what's  the 
matter?  You  look  as  if  you  had  seen  a  ghost!" 

Kate  rose  and  faced  him.  "I  have,"  she  said 
grimly. 

"You  didn't  hustle  me  down  here  to  show  it  to 
me,  did  you?" 

"Yes,  I  did,"  she  answered  curtly,  "and  to  help 
me  to  get  rid  of  it,  too." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Another  one  of  the  girls  committed  suicide  two 
hours  ago  at  the  downtown  place." 

"Another?  Good  God!  Why,  that's  two  in  a 
month,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Kate. 

"Huh !"  said  Wilson,  making  an  attempt  to  smile. 
"I  guess  we'd  better  take  an  undertaker  in  partner- 
ship with  us." 

"Yes ;  and  a  coroner,  too,"  retorted  Kate. 

Wilson  looked  up  at  her  quickly.     His  face  was 


THE   LURE  127 


now  almost  as  white  as  hers.  "What  makes  you  say 
that  ?  What  do  we  need  a  coroner  for  ?" 

"To  keep  him  from  asking  too  many  questions," 
answered  Kate. 

"What?" 

"Or  giving  out  too  much  information." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  said  Wilson  very 
gravely.  "Was  there  any  funny  business  about  this 
suicide?" 

"No ;  not  in  the  way  you  mean." 

"How  did  she  do  it?" 

"Strangled  herself  with  a  towel,"  answered  Kate 
as  she  began  to  pace  the  floor  again. 

"Which  one  was  she  ?"  cried  Wilson,  mopping  the 
perspiration  from  his  forehead. 

"We  never  saw  her.  She  was  a  young  girl  Paul 
got  the  other  day — fine  family,  and  all  that.  He 
had  to  marry  her  to  get  her,  of  course.  That's  al- 
ways his  long  suit.  Then,  when  he  got  her  down 
there  and  told  her  in  plain  English  what  she  was 
up  against,  she  fainted." 

"That's  natural,  of  course;  most  of  them  do,"  said 


128  THE    LURE 


Wilson  in  a  casual  tone,  as  though  he  were  listen- 
ing to  some  old  story. 

"When  she  came  to,"  continued  Kate,  "she  fought 
like  a  little  devil  to  get  out." 

"Did  Paul  beat  her  up?"  asked  Wilson  abruptly. 

"Not  that  I  know  of — not  as  badly  as  usual,  any- 
way. From  what  he  says  he  was  as  easy  with  her 
as  possible.  Carrie  took  her  clothes  away  and  locked 
her  up." 

"Did  they  feed  her?" 

"No;  but  she  didn't  actually  suffer." 

"That's  good.  I  am  glad  there  are  no  marks," 
said  Wilson  in  a  satisfied  tone. 

Kate  ceased  walking  and  sat  down  at  her  desk 
before  she  continued  her  story. 

"About  one  o'clock  to-day  Carrie  went  up  to  see 
her.  She  tried  to  talk  reason  to  her.  Told  her  that 
the  only  thing  for  her  to  do  was  to  submit ;  but  she 
just  sulked.  She  wouldn't  talk  at  all.  Carrie  says 
that  she  thinks  she  was  still  half  doped,  but  two 
hours  later,  when  she  went  back  to  the  room  again, 
she  found  her  lying  dead  on  the  floor." 


THE    LURE  129 


"Huh !  that's  bad,"  said  Wilson  coolly,  for  he  had 
now  entirely  recovered  his  self-possession.  "These 
things  are  always  disagreeable.  Still,"  he  went  on 
more  confidently,  "I  don't  see  any  particular  reason 
why  we  should  worry.  I  can  have  that  death  certifi- 
cate fixed  all  right." 

"Can  you  ?"  snapped  Kate  bitterly,  as  she  sprang 
up  from  her  chair  and  thrust  the  copy  of  an  evening 
paper  into  Wilson's  hands.  "Read  this,  then.  Per- 
haps it  will  change  your  tune." 

Wilson  recoiled  from  the  paper  as  though  it  were 
a  snake.  He  dropped  it  to  the  floor.  Kate  stooped 
and  picked  it  up. 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  said  with  a  sneer,  "if  you 
are  such  a  coward  that  you  can't  read  it  for  yourself 
I  will  read  it  to  you.  Listen  to  this : 

"  'Banker's  daughter  missing,  special  from 
Springfield.  The  police  of  all  cities  have  been 
notified  to  search  for  Charlotte  Baker,  daugh- 
ter of  Robert  Baker,  President  of  the  Mutual 
Bank,  who  disappeared  from  her  home  five 
days  ago.' " 


130  THE    LURE 


"Kate,"  cried  Wilson,  springing  to  his  feet  and 
snatching  the  paper  from  her  hands,  "do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  this  girl  was " 


Yes,"  she  answered,  "she  was  Charlotte  Baker  t" 


CHAPTER   IX 

Wilson's  face  went  white.  "Good  God!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "If  what  you  say  is  true — if  that  girl  is 
Charlotte  Baker — we  are  in  a  hole.  Why,  not  five 
five  minutes  ago,"  he  continued  excitedly,  "the  cap- 
tain of  this  precinct  was  talking  to  me  about  this 
case.  He  has  had  no  less  than  three  telegrams  with- 
in the  last  two  hours  from  the  chief  of  police  at 
Springfield.  They  are  burning  the  wires  up  hunt- 
ing for  her.  There's  a  big  reward  offered.  Every 
detective  agency  will  be  on  the  case.  Those  damned 
federal  officers  will  get  it,  too." 

"Well,"  said  Kate  calmly,  "who  knows  about  this 
— only  Paul  and  Carrie  and  me?" 

"None  of  the  others?  Good!  You  haven't  noti- 
fied the  coroner?" 

"I  left  that  for  you  to  do,"  said  Kate.  "That's  al- 
ways been  your  specialty." 

"Where  is  Paul  ?"  said  Wilson. 
131 


132  THE    LURE 


"He's  gone  out  to  get  a  drink.  He  will  be  back 
in  a  minute — ah,  here  he  comes  now." 

"Hello,  J-i-m !"  drawled  Paul,  making  a  very  ob- 
vious effort  to  seem  unconcerned.  "How's  every- 
thing?" 

Jim  Wilson  gazed  at  the  cadet  for  several  mo- 
ments. His  lips  curled  in  an  angry  snarl.  "Seems 
to  me  you  are  taking  things  pretty  easy,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Well,  why  not  ?"  snapped  Paul,  with  a  good  deal 
of  significance  in  his  tone. 

"For  a  fellow  that  is  skating  on  such  thin  ice 
you're  chucking  a  good  deal  of  bluff." 

Paul  turned  on  him  quickly.  "What  are  you  get- 
ting at  ?  Cut  out  all  this  riddle  stuff.  I  s'pose  you 
are  talking  about  the  Baker  girl?" 

"That's  just  who  I  am  talking  about,"  answered 
Wilson.  "What  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?" 

Paul  gave  a  sigh.  He  shook  his  head  commiser- 
atingly,  as  though  he  was  sympathizing  with  his  own 
hard  luck  story.  "Tough  luck,  ain't  it?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "She  was  a  pretty  little  kid,  but  she  fooled 


THE    LURE  133 


me.  I  never  thought  she  would  have  the  nerve  to 
kill  herself." 

"Did  she?"  exclaimed  Wilson,  with  grim  signifi- 
cance. 

Paul's  little,  beady  eyes  flashed  indignantly.  "Do 
you  think  I  killed  her  ?"  he  snapped  back  at  Wilson. 

"That's  just  what  I  am  trying  to  find  out." 

"Well,  I  guess  not,"  said  Paul,  laughing  sarcasti- 
cally. "What  would  I  want  to  do  that  for?  She'd 
a  been  worth  a  whole  lot  of  money  to  me." 

"Did  you  beat  her  up?" 

"Oh,  not  much — just  enough  to  make  her  quit 
fighting  and  come  down  to  earth." 

"How  did  you  get  her?" 

Paul  was  strutting  up  and  down  the  room  now, 
seemingly  enjoying  Wilson's  rage  and  discomfiture. 

"Oh,  scouting  around  Springfield.  It  was  as  easy 
as  falling  off  a  log.  I  saw  her  in  an  ice  cream  soda 
shop  one  day.  She  made  a  hit  with  me." 

"A  banker's  daughter,  eh?" 

"Oh,  that  didn't  cut  any  ice  with  me,"  continued 
Paul.  "You  know  I  always  go  in  for  class." 


134  THE    LURE 


"You  may  wish  you  hadn't  in  this  case,"  said 
Wilson  sternly. 

"I  followed  out  my  regular  method,"  continued 
Paul.  "I  found  out  the  church  she  went  to,  then  I 
went  to  the  first  church  sociable  and  made  a  play 
for  her  Sunday-school  teacher.  You  know  those 
affairs  they  have  at  small  country  churches  where 
every  one  gets  an  even  break.  She  didn't  live  right 
in  Springfield,  you  know.  Her  father  had  a  fine  old 
place  out  in  one  of  the  suburbs.  That  made  it  all 
the  easier. 

"Then,  when  I  met  her,  I  told  her  my  father  was 
a  banker,  too." 

"How  did  you  get  her  to  come  to  New  York?" 

Paul  threw  out  his  chest  and  stretched  himself. 
"Say,"  he  exclaimed  sneeringly,  "cut  this  catechism 
business.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  how  I  got  her, 
I  guess.  She  fell  for  me — fell  in  love  with  me  like 
they  all  do." 

Wilson  muttered  an  oath  under  his  breath. 

"She  said  she  was  lonesome,"  Paul  continued. 


THE    LURE  135 


"Couldn't  live  without  me,  and  all  that  sort  of 
stuff.  Finally  she  agreed  to  elope  with  me." 

"Did  her  father  ever  see  you  ?" 

"Only  once,  and,  gee!  say,  I  made  a  hit  with  the 
old  guy,  too.  We  talked  Sunday-school  for  half  an 
hour." 

"Can  he  put  it  on  you  ?" 

"I  guess  not — nothing  like  that.  Why,  I  married 
her  on  a  last  year's  revenue  license,  didn't  I,  Kate?" 
He  turned  to  his  wife  for  corroboration,  but  she, 
seated  at  her  desk,  with  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands,  made  no  answer.  "Big  Jacobs  performed  the 
ceremony,"  Paul  went  on,  "and  a  couple  of  Chicago 
dips  were  witnesses." 

Paul  paused,  lit  another  cigarette  and  turned  to 
Wilson  again. 

"Say,  Jim,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  make  me  sick. 
If  they  can  put  this  on  me  I'll  put  a  bib  on  and  let 
you  take  me  back  to  the  kindergarten." 

Wilson  jumped  to  his  feet  and  faced  him.  "Well, 
by  God !"  he  cried,  "I'll  tell  you  one  thing :  if  they 


136  THE    LURE 


do  put  it  on  you  you  won't  like  the  kind  of  kinder- 
garten they  are  going  to  send  you  to." 

Paul  walked  deliberately  up  to  Wilson  and  looked 
him  in  the  eye  menacingly. 

"Well,  if  they  do  send  me  to  a  kindergarten,  I'll 
have  a  great,  big  politician  along  to  keep  me  from 
getting  lonesome." 

"None  of  that  now,"  said  Wilson,  taking  a  step 
backward.  "Don't  you  try  any  of  that  threatening 
stuff  on  me." 

"Stop  it,  Paul !"  called  Kate  warningly. 

"Well,  it  goes,  every  word  of  it!"  cried  Paul, 
rounding  on  them  both. 

"What's  the  use  of  you  two  quarreling  at  a  time 
like  this?"  cried  Kate.  "Stop  it,  I  say,  we  are  only 
losing  time." 

Then,  turning  on  Wilson,  she  said  curtly :  "Well, 
Paul  has  told  you  his  story ;  now  what  have  you  got 
to  say,  and,  what's  more  important,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?" 

Wilson's  tone  moderated.  "If  what  he  says  is 
true,  and  there  wasn't  any  funny  business  about  her 


THE    LURE  137 


death,  I  guess  we  can  scrape  through.  It  will  be 
safe  enough,"  he  continued,  more  reassuringly.  "I 
think  I  can  fix  it." 

"Funny  business,"  sneered  Paul,  still  resenting 
Wilson's  insinuation  that  he  had  killed  her.  "Have 
you  seen  her  yet?" 

"No,"  said  Wilson,  "I  only  just  got  here  a  mo- 
ment ago." 

"Well,  then,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  go  down- 
town and  look  her  over  yourself." 

"I  guess  perhaps  I'd  better." 

Wilson  picked  up  his  hat  and  prepared  to  go,  but 
as  he  reached  the  door  Kate  stopped  him. 

"This  is  no  time  for  you  two  to  quarrel,  Jim," 
she  said.  "Stop  scrapping,  Paul ;  you  two  boys  had 
better  go  across  the  street  and  get  a  drink  before 
you  go  downtown.  You  go  ahead  over,  Jim,  and  I'll 
send  Paul  in  a  moment.  I  want  to  speak  to  him 
just  for  a  second.  It's  nothing  about  you." 

"Well,  hurry  up,  whatever  it  is.  I'll  wait  for  him 
across  the  street." 

As  the  door  of  the  private  office  closed  on  Wilson 


138  THE    LURE 


Paul  turned  savagely  on  Kate.  "What's  the  matter 
with  you,  anyhow  ?"  he  snarled  at  her. 

"I'm  frightened,  Paul — afraid — afraid,  as  I  have 
never  been  before  in  my  life,"  she  cried. 

"Aw,  forget  it,"  sneered  Paul.  "Where's  your 
nerve  ?" 

And  as  though  to  give  her  courage  he  walked  to 
the  electric  switch  and  turned  on  all  the  lights. 

"Don't  do  that,  Paul,"  cried  Kate.  "I  am  just 
going  to  close  the  office  for  the  night.  I  don't  want 
any  more  people  coming  in  here." 

"Well,  there  is  no  use  in  your  sitting  around  here 
in  the  dark,  just  because  you  happen  to  be  afraid  of 
your  own  shadow." 

"Now  about  Wilson,  Paul ;  for  God's  sake,  use  a 
little  discretion.  He  loathes  you,  you  know  that." 

"Well,  what  of  it;  the  only  real  grudge  he's  got 
against  me  is  that  I  married  you." 

Kate  smiled  bitterly.  "That  grudge  works  two 
ways,  Paul.  He's  never  forgiven  me  for  marrying 
you.  He  says  the  only  reason  we  did  it  was  so  that 
we  couldn't  testify  against  each  other." 


THE    LURE  139 


"Well,  perhaps  he  is  not  so  far  wrong  at  that; 
but  as  far  as  protection  goes  in  this  case  he  can't 
wriggle  out  of  it  anyway.  He's  had  his  rake-off 
regularly,  ain't  he ;  and  now  he  has  got  to  stand  by 
us.  If  he  don't  he'll  be  the  leader  of  a  chain  gang 
instead  of  a  district." 

"But  humor  him,  Paul;  for  God's  sake  humor 
him  to-night,"  pleaded  Kate.  "When  he  hears  about 
this  other  girl,  Nell,  he  is  going  to  be  crazy ;  that's 
what  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about.  You  must  not 
leave  her  here  to-night." 

"She's  right  here,  and  it's  right  here  that  she's 
going  to  stay,"  said  Paul. 

"You  haven't  hurt  her,  at  least  not  seriously?" 
said  Kate  anxiously. 

"No,  I  haven't  hurt  her.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  be- 
fore? I  just  gave  her  a  shot  with  this  new-fangled 
dope  gun  I  got  from  Skinny  Johnson  to-day."  As 
he  spoke  Paul  drew  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket  a 
tiny  syringe.  "It's  the  slickest  thing  yet;  I  never 
saw  one  before;  say,  Kate,  it's  simply  great.  It 
carries  about  half  a  drop  of  some  Chinese  stuff  that 


140  THE    LURE 


makes  them  dreamy  in  less  than  a  minute ;  see."  He 
held  the  syringe  out  toward  Kate  for  her  inspection ; 
but,  shuddering,  she  turned  away. 

"Take  it  away,  I  don't  want  to  see  it." 

Paul  continued  to  handle  the  syringe  as  though  it 
were  some  rare  jewel.  "It's  got  the  tiniest  sort  of 
a  needle,  with  a  little  guard  on  it  that  lets  it  only 
just  puncture  the  skin.  It  don't  hurt  much.  Skinny 
says  he  uses  it  in  moving-picture  places ;  on  the  street 
even.  He  picks  out  a  girl  that  looks  good  to  him 
and  slides  up  close  to  her  and  lets  her  have  a  shot  in 
the  arm.  She  thinks  a  pin  has  pricked  her,  or  a  bee 
stung  her — in  fact,  she  don't  have  time  to  think 
much ;  she's  dopey  in  a  minute  or  so.  Then  he  stays 
right  along  with  her,  and  when  she  goes  faint  or 
falls  unconscious  he  does  the  big  brother  act,  and 
gets  her  in  a  cab,  and  then — well,  good  night  for  her 
after  that." 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  it,  I  tell 
you,"  cried  Kate.  "Take  it  away." 

Paul  gave  a  sneering  laugh.  "Say,  if  you  are  go- 
ing to  travel  with  me,  Kate,  you  want  to  know 


THE    LURE  141 


everything  that's  going,  just  to  keep  up  with  the 
profession." 

"No,  no,  put  it  away,"  cried  Kate;  "it  gives  me 
the  creeps." 

"You're  a  terrible  coward,  old  girl,"  said  Paul,  in 
a  more  kindly  tone,  as  he  put  the  syringe  back  in  his 
pocket ;  "though,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  think 
so  much  of  it,  either.  It's  too  easy;  there's  a  lot 
more  fun  in  winning  a  girl  than  doping  her ;  the  ex- 
citement of  a  chase  for  mine." 

"But,  now  about  Nell,  Paul,"  said  Kate,  harping 
back  to  the  old  subject.  "You  are  not  going  to  keep 
her  here  to-night  ?" 

"Yes,  I  am." 

"It's  too  risky." 

"No,  it's  not,"  hissed  Paul. 

"But  it  is,  Paul,"  reiterated  Kate;  "there  are  a 
thousand  reasons." 

"Damn  your  reasons !  I  have  got  no  time  to  listen 
to  them.  Nobody  has  got  the  least  connection  be- 
tween this  employment  agency  and  the  Waverly 
Club.  They'd  search  a  year  and  never  find  her." 


142  THE    LURE 


Kate  opened  the  door  and  beckoned  to  Carrie. 
Carrie  came  in  and  closed  the  door.  "You  are  sure 
there  is  nothing  in  the  room  she  can  hurt  herself 
with  ?"  asked  Kate. 

"Yes,  mum,  perfectly  sure;  I  seen  to  that,"  Carrie 
replied. 

"Ah,  what's  the  use  of  worryin',"  said  Paul. 
"Nell  hasn't  got  nerve  enough  to  do  anything  like 
that." 

Kate  turned  on  him  bitterly.  "That's  what  you 
thought  about  the  little  Springfield  girl.  Oh,  my 
God,  I'd  give  anything  if  that  hadn't  happened." 

"Ah,  don't  worry;  a  girl's  a  girl,"  exclaimed  Paul 
indifferently.  "The  world's  full  of  them ;  so  what's 
the  use." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Kate,"  broke  in  Carrie,  "but 
what  must  I  tell  them  bench  warmers  still  out  there 
in  the  waiting-room  ?" 

"The  office  is  closed,  I  tell  you,"  said  Kate,  scowl- 
ing. "I  won't  see  any  of  them." 

"Not  even  that  girl?" 

"Nobody,"  snapped  Kate. 


THE    LURE  143 


"What  girl?"  asked  Paul,  suddenly  beginning  to 
take  an  interest. 

"Just  a  young  one  that  says  she's  desperate  for 
work,  that  she  must  get  a  job." 

"Is  she  a  good  looker?"  continued  Paul  persis- 
tently. 

"She  certainly  is  that,"  said  Carrie.  "She's  the 
best  lookin'  one  that's  been  around  here  in  a  month, 
and  she  ain't  no  cook,  either." 

"No,"  said  Kate  firmly;  "send  her  away,  too." 

At  this  point  Paul  took  command  of  the  situation. 
Turning  to  Carrie,  he  said :  "You  send  the  rest  of 
them  away,  but  keep  this  good-looking  one;  I'm 
going  across  the  street  to  speak  to  Wilson.  I'll  make 
him  go  downtown  and  do  his  own  dirty  business  for 
himself,  then  I'll  come  right  back  and  take  a  look  at 
her." 

"No,  Paul,"  cried  Kate  decisively ;  "not  to-night ; 
I  won't  have  it." 

"My  dear  Kate,"  said  Paul,  "business  is  business. 
Never  pass  up  a  good-looking  girl.  What  do  you 
think  we  got  this  shop  for,  anyhow  ?" 


144  THE    LURE 


Kate  threw  up  her  hands  in  a  wild  gesture. 
"That's  just  it;  this  cursed  agency.  After  to-night 
I'm  done  with  it  forever ;  ugh !" 

She  gave  a  shudder  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hands.  "Listening  to  these  hard-luck  stories  of 
cooks  and  waitresses  and  scullery  maids  out  of  em- 
ployment. It  makes  me  sick.  I  can't  endure  it." 

Paul  looked  at  his  wife  in  amazement.  "Well, 
you're  not  doing  it  for  the  pleasure  you  get  out  of  it, 
are  you  ?" 

"I  don't  care  what  we  do  it  for,"  she  cried  pas- 
sionately. "I'm  not  coming  back  here  another  day,  I 
tell  you ;  I  am  going  to  wash  my  hands  of  this  whole 
damnable  business.  To-morrow  morning  I  am  go- 
ing to  turn  this  office  over  to  Carrie." 

Paul  took  three  quick  steps  toward  his  wife. 

"Get  out  of  here,  Carrie,  I  want  to  speak  to  Mrs. 
Lockwood." 

As  the  girl  obeyed  him  Paul  slapped  his  two  hands 
down  on  Kate's  shoulders  and  turned  her  face  about. 

"So  you  are  going  to  turn  this  business  over  to 
Carrie,  are  you  ?"  he  hissed  at  her. 


THE    LURE  14,5 


"Yes,  I  am,"  Kate  reiterated  stoutly. 

He  shook  his  head  at  her  and  sneered ;  "and  turn 
us  all  over  to  the  police,  I  suppose.  Oh,  no,  you 
are  not." 

Kate  wrenched  herself  free  from  him  and  began 
to  cry.  Then  she  turned  to  her  husband  again  and 
laid  her  right  hand  pleadingly  upon  his  arm. 

"Paul,"  she  said,  "let's  sell  out  and  go  away." 

"Do  what?"  yelled  Paul,  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  sell  out  everything;  this  place,  the  Waverly 
Club;  all  of  our  rotten  connections." 

"What !"  cried  Paul,  as  though  unable  to  believe 
his  ears.  "Sell  out  the  fattest  business  in  town;  a 
business  that  pays  us  200  per  cent,  with  a  political 
backing  that  cannot  be  beat,  and  this  employment 
agency  blind  to  give  us  the  pick  of  the  market. 
Why,  say,  Kate,  you've  gone  clean  crazy.  You're 
nutty,  my  girl." 

"Crazy  or  not,  I  mean  it,"  she  cried  determinedly. 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,"  retorted  Paul,  and  a  brutal  look 
crept  into  his  eyes,  as  he  glared  at  the  woman. 


146  THE    LURE 


But  Kate  was  too  excited  now  to  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  his  threatening  looks. 

"We're  both  still  fairly  young,  Paul.  I  am  older 
than  you,  I  know,  but  not  so  much.  Let's  make  a 
clean  break;  let's  get  away  somewhere.  My  God, 
we  can  afford  it,  we  have  got  enough  money.  Let's 
make  our  marriage  good " 

"What's  that?"  cried  Paul,  throwing  his  head 
back  and  laughing. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  Wilson  says,  that  we  only 
married  so  that  we  couldn't  testify  against  each 
other,  but,  since  we  are  married,  let's  make  the  best 
of  it ;  let's  go  away  somewhere,  where  nobody  knows 
anything  at  all  about  us." 

"Now  I  know  you  are  plumb  crazy,"  cried  Paul. 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  reform?' 

"Yes,  yes,  I  do,"  reiterated  Kate. 

Again  Paul  laughed  in  a  brutal  way. 

"My  God,  you  must  be  scared,"  he  cried. 

"I  am,  I  am,"  continued  Kate.  "Worse  than  ever 
before;  I  am  going  to  get  out  of  it  all,  I  tell  you; 
whether  you  come  with  me  or  not,  I  am  going  to 


THE   LURE  147 


break  away.  It's  my  one  last  chance.  I  feel  that. 
I  know  it.  Something  happened  to-night  which 
made  me  sure  of  it.  Oh,  not  all  this  suicide  stuff. 
I  don't  mean  that." 

"Well,  what  do  you  mean,  then?"  said  Paul 
coldly.  "What  was  this  wonderful  miracle  that 
happened  to-night?" 

"Perhaps  you're  not  so  far  wrong,"  answered 
Kate.  "For  all  I  know,  it  may  have  been  a  sort  of 
miracle,  at  least  in  its  effect  on  me.  What  happened 
was  a  dear,  sweet  little  old  lady  strayed  in  here  by 
mistake  and  by  her  simple  trust  and  faith  in  me  she 
quite  unknowingly,  quite  unconsciously,  made  me 
see  and  realize  all  my  rottenness,  as  I  never  have 
before." 

Paul  pushed  her  away  from  him  with  a  gesture 
of  disgust. 

"Ah,  you  make  me  sick,  Kate,"  he  cried.  "You're 
just  like  a  bum  gambler.  As  soon  as  you  begin  to 
lose  you  begin  to  think  of  swearing  off.  Now,  just 
tighten  up  a  bit,  old  girl,  get  down  to  cases;  pull 
yourself  together.  Have  Carrie  get  you  an  ab- 


148  THE    LURE 


sinthe;  so  long,  I  can't  keep  Jim  waiting  any 
longer." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  darted  toward  the  door. 

Before  he  could  open  it  Kate  made  her  last  stand. 

"Ah,  Paul,"  she  cried,  "please,  please,  do  what  I 
say." 

"Reform?" 

"Yes,  let's  both  of  us." 

"Not  for  mine,"  exclaimed  Paul,  shaking  his  head. 
"Why,  if  I  reform,  there'll  be  only  one  thing  left 
for  me;  I'd  have  to  go  to  work." 


CHAPTER  X 

"What  is  it,  Carrie?" 

Kate,  who  had  thrown  herself  down  on  the 
leather  lounge,  a  veritable  picture  of  despair,  when 
Paul  left  to  join  Wilson  in  the  cafe  on  the  corner, 
looked  up  suddenly,  as  the  colored  girl  reentered  the 
room. 

"It's  that  girl  outside,  Miss  Kate.  Ah  just  can't 
get  rid  of  her.  She  just  seems  desperate  like;  she 
won't  go.  Ah  guess  she  must  have  heard  your  voice 
or  something,  because  she  knows  you're  here,  and 
she  don't  talk  like  no  ordinary  cook,  or  servant,  or 
nothin'!  She  seems  to  know  you  personally,  Miss 
Kate,  and  she  says  it's  a  matter  of  life  and  death 
with  her." 

As  Carrie  uttered  the  words  "life  and  death," 
Kate  paled  apprehensively. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  her  before ;  did  she  say  how 

she  knew  me?" 

149 


150  THE    LURE 


"No,  Miss  Kate,  she  didn't  say  how  she  knew 
you,  but  she  just  said  she  knew  you.  Ah  don't  think 
you  need  be  afraid  of  seein'  her,  Miss  Kate.  One 
thing  sure,  she  ain't  no  detective." 

Kate  pondered  for  a  moment. 

"Perhaps,  after  all,  you'd  better  let  her  come  in, 
but  hereafter  when  I  tell  you  to  shut  up  this  place 
you  shut  it  right  off,"  she  added,  losing  her  temper 
suddenly. 

"That's  all  right,  Miss  Kate ;  ah'll  show  her  in." 

A  moment  later  the  door  opened  and  Sylvia,  look- 
ing very  pale  and  haggard,  entered  the  room. 

Kate  was  seated  at  her  desk,  now  entirely  the 
business  woman  in  both  her  poise  and  manner.  Her 
eyes  took  in  Sylvia  with  a  hurried  glance,  while  the 
girl  stood  waiting  just  inside  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  Kate,  rather  brusquely;  then  to 
herself  she  exclaimed:  "There's  a  girl  who  is  up 
against  it  if  ever  I  saw  one." 

"Do  you  want  to  see  me?"  she  asked,  motioning 
Sylvia  to  a  chair,  and  speaking  in  a  slightly  gentler 
tone. 


THE    LURE  151 


"Thank  you,"  said  Sylvia,  coming  forward.  "I 
would  like  to  speak  to  you  very  much,  if  I  may." 

"What  do  you  want  to  see  me  about?"  asked 
Kate,  in  a  still  kindlier  tone. 

Sylvia  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  though  at  a 
loss  how  to  begin. 

"Why,  you  see,  you  gave  me  your  card  one  day." 

"Oh,  did  I  ?"  said  Kate,  questioning  her. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Sylvia. 

"When  was  that?" 

"Quite  some  time  ago;  nearly  a  year,  in  fact." 

"That's  quite  a  long  time,"  smiled  Kate,  a  little 
unbelievingly.  "Perhaps  that's  why  I  don't  remem- 
ber it.  You  see,  of  course,  in  my  business,  I  give 
away  a  great  many  of  my  cards  to  young  girls. 
But  where  did  all  this  happen?" 

"At  the  shop." 

"Oh,  then  you  are  a  sales-girl,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia. 

"Perhaps  you  will  remember,  when  I  tell  you  that 
we  had  quite  a  little  chat  that  day;  you  were  very 
kind,  and  when  I  happened  to  mention  that  I  was 


152  THE    LURE 


very  anxious  to  get  extra  work  in  the  evenings  you 
became  interested  and  gave  me  your  card,  and  told 
me  that  if  I'd  come  here  to  see  you,  you  thought 
you  might  be  able  to  get  me  work." 

Sylvia,  who  was  watching  Kate's  face  intently, 
saw  to  her  relief  that  she  did  remember. 

"Ah,  yes ;  wait  a  minute ;  I  think  I  do  remember 
now,"  replied  Kate,  with  a  little  smile.  "It  was  at 
the  store,  wasn't  it,  and,  let  me  see,  now — aren't 
you  the  little  girl  down  at  the  silk  stocking  counter?" 

"Oh,  then  you  do  remember  me,"  said  Sylvia 
eagerly.  "I  am  so  glad." 

"Why,  of  course,  I  do,"  said  Kate  reassuringly. 
"I  was  pretty  sure  I  knew  you  from  the  first,  but 
I  couldn't  quite  place  you.  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you.  But,  tell  me,  why  did  you  wait  all  this  time  to 
come  and  see  me  ?  It  must  be  nearly  a  year,  as  you 
say,  since  I  gave  you  that  card." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  always  meant  to  come, 
but  a  day  or  two  after  you  gave  me  the  card  I 
mislaid  it ;  and  then  I  got  another  place " 

"Ah,  then  you're  not  at  the  store  any  more?" 


THE    LURE  153 


"No,  I  went  to  one  of  the  downtown  shops.  I 
got  a  little  more  money  down  there,  and  then  sud- 
denly to-day,"  continued  Sylvia,  "when  I  was  feel- 
ing very  desperate  and  blue,  a  chance  remark  made 
by  a  friend  of  mine  made  me  think  of  you." 

Kate  gave  Sylvia  a  quick  look. 

"A  chance  remark?"  she  said.  "Why,  that's 
strange;  who  could  possibly  make  a  chance  remark 
to  you  that  would  make  you  think  of  me?  I  didn't 
know  that  we  had  any  mutual  friends." 

"Oh,"  smiled  Sylvia,  "this  man  didn't  know  you ; 
it  just  happened  in  an  odd  sort  of  way.  I  met  him 
to-day  for  the  first  time  in  ever  so  long,  and  jok- 
ingly he  asked  me  if  I  remembered  the  last  time  we 
had  met,  and  then  when  I  said  'no,  I  didn't,'  he 
told  me  that  the  last  time  he  had  seen  me  was  in 
the  store,  and  that  I  didn't  notice  him  at  all  because 
I  was  so  busy  talking  to  a  lady,  whom  I  was  serving 
at  the  counter,  and  who  presently  leaned  over  and 
gave  me  her  card.  Of  course,  his  saying  that 
brought  the  incident  all  back  to  my  mind.  You 
were  the  lady." 


154  THE    LURE 


"Yes,"  smiled  Kate,  looking  exceedingly  relieved, 
"I  was  the  lady,  sure  enough." 

"Well,  after  he  had  left  me,  I  began  to  think 
about  you,  and  to  try  to  remember  your  address. 
You  see  I  was  quite  desperate;  I've  simply  got  to 
get  extra  work,  so  I  went  into  my  room  and 
searched  through  all  my  things  there,  and  finally 
through  great  good  fortune  I  found  your  card." 

"That  was  a  bit  of  luck,  wasn't  it?"  remarked 
Kate.  "Then  now,  of  course,  you  know  who  I  am." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  I  do,"  answered  Sylvia  con- 
fidently. "You  are  Mrs.  Katherine  Lock  wood." 

"That's  right,  that's  my  name,"  said  Kate.  "Still 
working  at  the  downtown  store?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Sylvia,  "but " 

"Then  why  so  badly  off  for  extra  work?"  asked 
Kate. 

"To  earn  more  money,"  said  Sylvia,  very  ear- 
nestly. 

"What  for?" 

"For  my  mother" — there  was  a  little  break  in 
Sylvia's  voice  as  she  answered — a  break  which  made 


THE    LURE  155 


Kate  look  at  her  more  sympathetically  than  before. 

"My  mother  is  desperately  ill,  and  I  don't  earn 
enough  at  the  store." 

"Oh,"  said  Kate,  nodding  her  head,  "I  see,  I  see." 

In  her  eagerness  to  tell  her  straits  Sylvia  leaned 
forward  and  drew  her  chair  a  little  closer  to  Kate's 
desk.  "The  doctor  said  to-night  that  she  must  have 
certain  very  expensive  medicines  to-morrow — and 
— delicate  food,  and  she  can't  have  any  of  these 
things  unless  I  earn  the  extra  money  evenings. 

"But,  please,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  don't  want 
to  bother  you  with  all  my  troubles ;  I  only  speak  of 
them  because  I  want  you  to  realize  how  necessary  it 
is  that  I  should  get  work  at  once." 

"Go  on,  my  dear,"  said  Kate,  rising  from  her  desk 
and  crossing  to  the  sofa.  With  a  wave  of  her  hand 
she  beckoned  Sylvia  to  follow  her.  Sylvia  obedi- 
ently sat  down  beside  her  on  the  leather  couch. 

"Tell  me  all  about  your  troubles,  I  want  to  hear 
them ;  I  have  often  been  in  hard  luck  myself." 

"Oh,  but  this  is  worse  than  hard  luck,  I'm  per- 
fectly desperate,"  cried  Sylvia,  so  touched  by  Kate's 


156  THE    LURE 


kindness  that  her  eyes  were  now  brimming  with 
tears.  "Somehow  I  have  just  got  to  earn  a  hundred 
dollars ;  it's  the  only  way  that  I  can  save  her  life." 

"How  is  that?"  questioned  Kate. 

"Well,  you  see,  the  doctor  says  that  she's  in  a 
very  bad  condition,  and  that  in  two  or  three  weeks' 
time  after  she's  had  these  delicacies  and  medicines 
and  has  been  built  up  a  little  bit  she  must  under- 
go a  very  serious  operation." 

"Why  not  go  to  the  Charity  Hospital,  then?" 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  Sylvia  as  Kate  put  this 
question  that  her  tone  and  attitude  had  grown  a 
little  colder. 

"She  is  going  there,"  explained  the  girl  hurriedly, 
"but  the  doctor  says  that  even  if  the  operation  is  a 
success  she  can't  possibly  recover  unless  she  goes  to 
the  country  after  it." 

"And  you  want  the  money  for  that  ?" 

Sylvia  rose  to  her  feet  in  her  excitement.  "I  not 
only  want  it,  but  I've  got  to  get  it,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Why,  I'd  even  steal  to  save  mother." 


THE    LURE  157 


"Why  not  borrow  the  hundred  dollars?"  said 
Kate. 

Sylvia  turned  and  looked  searchingly  into  her 
questioner's  face. 

"I've  tried — oh,  so  hard ;  but  those  few  who  have 
the  money  won't  lend  it  to  me ;  and  those  real  friends 
I  have,  who  would  do  it  only  too  gladly,  haven't 
the  money.  Believe  me,  I  have  tried  to  borrow  it 
as  I  never  tried  for  anything  in  my  life." 

"God,  'tis  hard  to  borrow  money,  when  you  need 
it,"  cried  Kate,  and  the  sincerity  of  her  tone  con- 
vinced Sylvia  that  she  knew  whereof  she  spoke. 

Kate  turned  and  scrutinized  Sylvia  very  closely. 
The  girl  returned  her  gaze  with  frank  and  truthful 
eyes. 

Kate  rose  and  took  a  step  toward  her. 

"Are  you  telling  me  the  truth  ?" 

Sylvia  gave  a  great  sigh  and  made  a  pathetic 
little  gesture  with  both  her  hands.  "Oh,  my  God," 
she  said,  "if  it  were  only  not  true." 

"And  you're  really  up  against  it  as  bad  as  all 
that?" 


158  THE    LURE 


"I  haven't  told  you  half,"  said  Sylvia.  "I  am  to 
be  laid  off  at  the  store  next  week ;  the  times  are  so 
bad  they  are  getting  rid  of  thirty  of  the  girls,  and 
I  am  one  of  them,  but  what's  the  use  of  my  telling 
you  all  this.  It  only  distresses  you.  You  can't 
realize " 

Kate  lifted  up  her  hand  protestingly. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can,"  she  said.  "I  don't  think  there  is 
a  woman  living  knows  better  than  I  what  it  means." 

As  she  spoke,  Kate  crossed  to  her  desk  again, 
opened  the  drawer,  found  her  purse,  and  took  out 
a  large  roll  of  bills.  While  she  was  slowly  counting 
ten  ten-dollar  bills  off  the  roll  the  door  opened  sud- 
denly and  Carrie,  who  had  evidently  been  listening, 
swooped  down  upon  her  mistress.  Her  eyes  were 
flashing  angrily.  She  snatched  the  purse  and  money 
out  of  Kate's  hands. 

"When  you  goin'  out,  Miss  Kate?"  she  snapped 
pettishly.  "Don't  seem  to  me  there's  no  use  your 
settin'  here  wastin'  your  time  this  hour  of  the 
night." 


THE    LURE  159 


The  negress  turned  and  glared  at  Sylvia,  who, 
abashed  and  startled,  drew  away  from  the  table. 

Kate  stood  motionless  for  a  moment. 

Much  to  Carrie's  secret  amazement  she  made  no 
attempt  to  resent  her  snatching  the  purse. 

After  a  slight  pause  Kate  said:  "Carrie,  you 
have  kept  me  from  making  a  fool  of  myself  again." 

"You  always  was  too  mighty  tender-hearted,  Miss 
Kate." 

Then,  as  Sylvia,  discouraged  and  disheartened 
now,  sat  down  on  the  couch  again,  Carrie  whispered 
to  her  mistress :  "She's  nothing  to  you,  Miss  Kate ; 
business  is  business.  Ah  guess  you'd  better  let  me 
keep  this  purse  till  we  go  home." 

"I  shall  be  leaving  for  home  in  a  few  minutes," 
said  Kate. 

Carrie,  with  the  purse  in  her  possession,  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  and  slammed  the  door. 

Kate  turned  to  Sylvia  again,  but  the  girl's  instinct 
made  her  realize  that  she  need  no  longer  look  for 
sympathy  from  her. 

Kate  lit  a  cigarette,  then  crossed  the  room  and  sat 


160  THE    LURE 


down  on  the  couch  beside  Sylvia.  Her  tone  now 
was  cold  and  calculating.  She  seemed  to  be  weigh- 
ing Sylvia  as  in  a  balance  and  finding  her  very  light 
weight. 

"I  know  how  you  feel,  child,"  she  said  quite  for- 
mally. "It's  all  very  sad ;  I  can  realize  it,  but " 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  you  can,  Mrs.  Lockwood; 
but  if  you'll  only  give  me  some  extra  work,  that's 
all  I  ask.  If  you'll  only  keep  the  promise  which 
you  made  to  me  that  day  at  the  store." 

"Well,  at  least,  I'll  do  my  best,  my  dear.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  I  can  find  some  work  for  you  to  do. 
Let  me  see,  now."  She  paused,  seemed  to  be  deep 
in  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 
"There's  a  firm  downtown  that  wants  girls  to  ad- 
dress envelopes;  they  pay  50  cents  a  thousand.  If 
you  could  do  a  thousand  a  night  you  could  earn 
$3.50  a  week.  How  about  that?" 

Sylvia's  face  fell.  It  was  all  that  she  could  do  to 
keep  the  tears  back. 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid  that  wouldn't  do,  Mrs.  Lock- 
wood,"  she  exclaimed.  "It  would  take  too  long; 


THE   LURE  161 


why,  you  see,  even  at  the  best,  I  couldn't  address 
more  than  500  a  night.  I  couldn't  wait." 

"Well,  then,  how  would  this  do,"  said  Kate,  still 
very  cool  and  deliberate:  "I  have  a  lawyer  client 
who  wants  a  girl  to  do  typing  at  night.  If  you  were 
thoroughly  competent  I  feel  sure  that  he  would  be 
willing  to  pay  you  five  dollars  a  week." 

Sylvia  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  a  little  gesture 
of  despair. 

"Ah,  but  that's  the  awkward  part  of  it,"  she  cried. 
"I  can't  typewrite.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do,  what  shall 
I  do?"  she  cried. 

Kate  turned  and  surveyed  the  girl  coldly. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  she  said,  with  the  least  trace 
of  sarcasm,  "you  see,  I  am  trying  my  best  to  fulfil 
my  promise,  but  from  what  you  confess  yourself 
you  don't  seem  able  to  do  anything  that  will  help 
you  much." 

"But  I  must  get  the  money,  just  the  same,"  ex- 
claimed Sylvia,  springing  to  her  feet.  "Have  you 
anything  else  to  offer  me,  Mrs.  Lockwood;  I  don't 
care  what  it  is,  and  I  don't  want  to  keep  you  here 


162  THE    LURE 


wasting  your  time  for  nothing ;  but  if  you  have  any- 
thing, anything,  I  don't  care  what,  if  you  think  that 
I  can  do  it,  if  it  is  possible  in  any  way,  offer  it  to 
me.  I'll  take  anything." 

Kate's  face  broke  into  smiles.  She  reached  out 
and  took  Sylvia's  hand. 

"Bully  for  you,  little  girl,"  she  exclaimed.  "That's 
talking  like  a  true  woman;  you  say  that  as  if  you 
meant  it." 

"I  do  mean  it,"  said  Sylvia  fervently. 

Kate's  mood  changed  suddenly.  Her  smile  was 
gone  now.  The  face  she  turned  to  Sylvia  was  al- 
most sullen. 

"Maybe  you  do,"  she  said,  in  a  rather  skeptical 
tone,  "and  maybe  you  don't.  I  am  not  so  sure  about 
that." 

"But  I  do  mean  it,  Mrs.  Lockwood.  I  surely  do," 
the  girl  reiterated. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Kate,  in  a  ruminating  tone.  She 
leaned  her  chin  on  her  hand  and  looked  away  from 
Sylvia.  When  she  spoke  it  was  as  though  she  were 
entirely  alone  in  the  room.  "A  hundred  dollars/* 


"A   HUNDRED   DOLLARS   MEANS,   TO   ME,   MT   MOTHER'S   LIFE;   AND   TO   GET   IT I*LL  DO 

ANYTHING,   ANYTHING!  "  P.  163 


THE    LURE  163 


said  Kate.     "It's  a  pitiful  sum  as  the  world  goes, 
but  it  can  mean  life  or  death  to  some  people." 

Sylvia's  pale  cheeks  were  aflame  now.  She  turned 
toward  Kate  vehemently.  "Well,  that's  just  what  a 
hundred  dollars  means  to  me,  my  mother's  life;  and 
to  get  it — I'll  do  anything,  anything!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

"Listen,  my  dear  child,"  said  Kate,  turning  to- 
ward Sylvia  and  assuming  a  more  confidential  tone. 
"About  fifteen  years  ago  I  was  in  worse  straits  even 
than  you  are  now.  I  was  alone,  ill,  and  I  had  a  little 
baby.  It  was  up  to  me  to  save  its  life,  as  it  is  up  to 
you  to  save  your  mother's  life." 

"Oh,  how  terrible!"  said  Sylvia  sympathetically. 
"What  did  you  do?" 

"I  did  what  I  could,"  replied  Kate  briefly.  "That's 
all  that  any  of  us  can  do,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  but  I  mean "  began  Sylvia. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  and  I  know  what  I  am 
going  to  tell  you.  I  could  only  save  my  baby's  life 
by  doing  extra  work." 

Sylvia  clenched  her  hands  and  with  grim  deter- 
mination in  her  voice  replied:  "Very  well,  Mrs. 
Lockwood,  just  give  me  a  chance.  I  am  going  to 

save  my  mother's  life  that  same  way." 

164 


THE    LURE  165 


"That's  the  way  I  felt,"  said  Kate  reassuringly. 
"When  I  couldn't  get  the  work  I  wanted  to  do,  I  did 
what  I  could." 

"So  will  I,"  said  Sylvia. 

"But  it's  hopeless  your  way,"  said  Kate.  "You'll 
never  earn  the  money  you  must  have  by  doing  the 
sort  of  work  you  want  to  do.  Why,  good  heavens, 
girl,  if  all  that  you  tell  me  is  the  truth,  your  poor 
mother  will  be  dead  and  buried  weeks  and  weeks  be- 
fore you  will  be  able  to  scrape  together  that  hundred 
dollars." 

"I  am  willing  to  do  anything,  anything,"  reiter- 
ated the  girl. 

Kate  lighted  another  cigarette.  Her  voice  took 
on  its  cold,  bitter  tone  again. 

"Well,  when  a  woman  is  up  against  it  as  I  was 
and  as  you  are,  there's  just  one  way,  my  dear  girl." 

A  great  light  began  to  break  on  Sylvia.  The  girl 
was  gazing  steadily  at  the  older  woman's  face,  but 
Kate  Lockwood  refused  to  meet  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Mrs.  Lockwood,"  said 
Sylvia  sharply.  "Please  make  yourself  more  clear." 


166  THE    LURE 


"I  am  as  clear  as  running  water,"  said  Kate 
sternly.  "I  am  merely  stating  facts  to  you." 

"But  this  way  that  you  speak  of,  this  only  way 
for  me  to  save  my  mother?" 

"Come,  come,  my  girl,"  said  Kate,  with  a  touch 
of  sarcasm.  "After  all,  you  were  not  born  yester- 
day. You  must  be  eighteen  at  least,  and  your  ex- 
periences behind  the  counter  must  have  taught  you 
a  few  of  the  ways  of  the  world." 

Sylvia  rose  to  her  feet.  She  was  blushing  furi- 
ously. "Again  I  ask  you,  Mrs.  Lock  wood,  what  do 
you  mean?" 

Kate  rose  and  faced  her.  "In  plain  English  I 
mean  this,"  she  said  bluntly.  "For  a  girl  in  your 
position — a  girl  in  as  desperate  straits  as  you  are, 
there's  always  one  way  out — there's  one  way  out; 
there's  always  one  door  open;  there's  always  some 
man  waiting  with — the  money." 

"Oh,"  cried  Sylvia,  fully  understanding  now.  She 
turned  to  go,  but  Kate  laid  a  restraining  hand  upon 
her  arm. 


THE    LURE  167 


"Listen,  I  haven't  finished  yet;  you'd  better  hear 
me  out." 

"But  I " 

"The  men  who  buy  never  get  what  they  can't  pay 
for,"  continued  Kate.  "A  woman's  soul  goes  only 
as  a  gift." 

Sylvia  listened,  sick  with  fear  and  yet  fascinated. 
Presently  she  said :  "Then  you  want  me  to " 

"Yes,"  nodded  Kate  abruptly,  before  Sylvia  could 
finish  her  sentence. 

"I  didn't  know,"  cried  Sylvia,  turning  her  head 
away.  "I  thought  you  were  an  honest  woman,  I 
thought  you  were  a  good  woman.  I  thought  you 
meant  everything  you  promised  to  do  for  me.  Do 
you  think  that  I  had  the  least  idea  of  the  sort  of 
woman  you  are  when  I  came  here  to  ask  your  as- 
sistance ?" 

Kate  gazed  at  her  stonily.  "I  don't  believe  you 
did,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  I  didn't,  I  didn't!"  cried  Sylvia.  "Please, 
please,  believe  me  when  I  say  that.  I  am  sorry — 
very,  very  sorry  that  I  bothered  you." 


168  THE    LURE 


"That's  all  right,"  said  Kate,  in  an  offhand  way. 
"Don't  let  that  bother  you.  I  have  been  insulted 
before  in  my  own  house." 

"But  I  haven't  had  the  least  intention  of  insulting 
you,  Mrs.  Lockwood.  Please  don't  think  that,"  said 
the  girl  uneasily.  "I  simply  tell  you  that  I  did  not 
know;  I  never  dreamed  that  you  were  this  sort  of 
woman.  Good  bye,  Mrs.  Lockwood.  Again  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  having  bothered  you." 

She  turned  and  made  a  quick  dart  toward  the 
door.  But  Kate  forestalled  her.  Before  she  could 
reach  the  door  Kate  had  her  back  against  it  and  was 
blowing  rings  jauntily  from  her  cigarette. 

"Ah,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  my  dear;  you  haven't 
hurt  my  feelings  in  the  least;  besides  we  haven't 
thrashed  this  matter  out  thoroughly  yet." 

"Let  me  pass,  please;  I  must  go,  go  at  once,"  de- 
manded the  girl. 

"Of  course,  my  dear,  go  any  minute  you  like; 
this  is  Liberty  Hall,  but  don't  you  think  you  are  a 
little  foolish  not  to  let  me  explain  matters  more  fully 
to  you  ?  Five  minutes  ago  you  listened  to  me  in  all 


THE   LURE  169 


seriousness,  and,  in  spite  of  what  you  may  think  of 
me  now,  I  am  not  a  bit  more  dangerous  now  than  I 
was  five  minutes  ago.  Have  a  little  common  sense ; 
don't  be  afraid;  sit  down  for  a  moment.  Nothing 
can  harm  you  here.  Why  this  is  a  public  building." 

"I  know,  Mrs.  Lockwood,  but  I  must  go  just  the 
same.  I  mustn't  stay  here  another  minute." 

"Very  well,  then,"  answered  Kate,  without  mov- 
ing an  inch  from  her  position  of  vantage  at  the 
door. 

"I  hope,  though,  you  realize  that  you  are  doing  me 
a  great  injustice." 

Kate's  whole  mood  changed  suddenly.  She  spoke 
in  a  softer,  kindlier  tone.  "Can't  you  see  that  I  am 
awfully  sorry  for  you,  my  dear  child;  can't  you  see 
that  I  want  to  help  you,  if  I  possibly  can,  and  if  you 
will  only  give  me  time  to  explain  to  you  I  think  I 
can  help  you." 

"No,  you  can't  help  me,  Mrs.  Lockwood;  you 
can't,  not  in  any  such  way  as  that,"  protested  Sylvia. 

"Why,  if  I  had  a  hundred  dollars  I'd  let  you  have 


170  THE    LURE 


it  in  a  moment."  Kate  uttered  the  lie  without  the 
quiver  of  an  eyelash. 

"Thank  you;  that's  very  kind  of  you,  but  I 
couldn't  take  any  money  from  you,  Mrs.  Lockwood, 
not  if  you  had  a  million  dollars  in  your  purse,  in- 
stead of  a  few  hundred." 

"Why  couldn't  you?"  demanded  Kate. 

"Simply  because  I  couldn't,  that's  all." 

"And  I  took  you  seriously,"  cried  Kate.  "I  be- 
lieved in  you;  I  thought  you  were  telling  me  the 
truth;  and  now  I  find  that  you  were  lying  to  me, 
deliberately  lying;  why,  I  don't  believe  there  is  an 
honest  bone  in  your  body." 

"How  dare  you  speak  to  me  like  that?"  said 
Sylvia.  "In  what  way  have  I  lied  to  you ;  what  do 
you  mean  when  you  say  I  haven't  spoken  the 
truth?" 

"I  mean  exactly  what  I  said,"  retorted  Kate. 
"You  must  be  lying  to  me.  It  isn't  five  minutes  ago 
that  you  said  to  me  that  you  would  do  anything  in 
the  world  to  save  your  mother's  life,  and  now,  when 


THE    LURE  171 


I  give  you  a  chance,  when  I  find  a  way  out  for  you, 
you  renig." 

"But  I  didn't  understand,  Mrs.  Lockwood;  I  had 
not  the  remotest  idea  of  what  you  meant ;  I  was  dis- 
tracted— half  out  of  my  mind,  but  even  for  mother 
I  couldn't  do  a  thing  like  that." 

Kate  moved  away  from  the  door  now.  She  threw 
away  her  cigarette  and  laid  her  hand  sympathetically 
on  Sylvia's  arm. 

"My  dear  child,  we  all  feel  that  way  at  first,"  she 
said,  very  kindly.  "I  know  it's  only  natural;  I  felt 
that  way  myself  when  that  first  chance  came  to  me, 
but  there  was  my  baby — my  little  child,  not  a  year 
old,  dying — dying." 

Sylvia  burst  into  tears.  "Oh,  please  don't,  Mrs. 
Lockwood,  please  let  me  go." 

"Wasn't  I  right  to  save  her?"  Kate  went  on  ruth- 
lessly, still  with  the  restraining  hand  on  the  girl's 
arm.  "Wasn't  it  right  for  me  to  save  the  life  of  the 
dearest  thing  to  me  in  all  the  world?  What  would 
you  or  any  other  woman  think  of  a  mother  or  a 
daughter,  even,  who  wouldn't  sacrifice  herself  for 


172  THE    LURE 


the  one  that  she  loved  best  on  earth?  Why,  if  I 
had  let  my  baby  die  then  its  death  would  have  been 
upon  my  soul  forever.  I  could  never  have  drawn 
a  happy  breath." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cried  the  girl,  "there's  no  use  dis- 
cussing this  matter  any  longer." 

"I  am  only  telling  you  what  I  did.  Of  course,  if 
you  don't  love  your  mother,  as  I  loved  my  child, 
there's  no  use  of  my  trying  to  persuade  you.  But 
remember  this.  In  this  world  it  isn't  what  you  may 
do  that  counts,  it's  why  you  do  it." 

Kate  was  speaking  like  an  oracle  now.  "Neces- 
sity makes  everything  right." 

"No,  no,  it  does  not,"  cried  Sylvia.  "I  don't  be- 
lieve that;  it  isn't  true." 

"And,  after  all,"  pursued  Kate,  "who  is  to  know 
about  it;  this  would  be  the  one  great  sacrifice  of 
your  life;  with  your  mother  safe  and  well  again  you 
would  thank  your  God,  day  by  day,  that  you  had 
made  a  martyr  of  yourself  as  I  did.  Within  a  very 
few  days  all  the  money  that  you  must  have,  all  the 
money  that  you  needed,  would  be  at  hand ;  then  you 


THE    LURE  173 


could  slip  quietly  back  home  again,  back  to  your  old 
life  of  drudgery  in  the  shop,  if  you  wanted  to,  and 
no  one  would  be  the  wiser." 

"Don't,  don't!"  cried  the  girl.  "You  mustn't 
tempt  me  like  that;  it's  too  awful." 

"Too  awful,"  echoed  Kate,  in  a  pained  tone; 
"too  awful,  because  I  show  you  a  way  to  save  your 
mother's  life;  too  awful  because  I  show  you  how  to 
make  a  sacrifice  for  her;  why  I  thought  you  said 
you  loved  her.  Why,  a  month  from  now,  she  would 
be  well  again,  and  you  would  be  happy  in  having 
saved  her;  then  you  could  forget  it  all;  the  whole 
affair  would  be  a  closed  book  to  you." 

"Oh,  no,  it  wouldn't ;  I  could  never  forget  it." 
"Let  me  ask  you  something,"  said  Kate,  changing 
her  tone  again  and  growing  stern.  "Don't  you  think 
it  would  be  easier  for  you  to  forget  that  than  to 
forget  that  on  account  of  your  own  selfishness  you 
had  allowed  your  mother  to  die?" 

"Stop,  stop,  you  are  driving  me  crazy!" 
"Oh,  very  well,"  exclaimed  Kate,  with  a  sigh  of 
resignation.    "I  shall  not  try  to  urge  you  any  more. 


174  THE    LURE 


Your  poor  mother  will  have  to  die,  that's  all.  Hasn't 
it  occurred  to  you  yet  if  you  refuse  this  offer  what  a 
hell  on  earth  your  life  is  going  to  be  to  you  after 
your  poor  mother's  dead  and  gone?  Your  regrets 
won't  do  you  any  good  then.  It  will  be  too  late. 
Can't  you  see  I  am  only  trying  to  help  you  while  it  is 
still  time ;  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about ;  haven't 
I  been  through  the  mill?  I've  never  regretted  what 
I  did." 

The  girl  turned  to  her  eagerly.  "Honest,  did  you 
never  regret  it  ?" 

Sylvia  was  peering  now  straight  into  Kate's  eyes. 

"Never,  never  for  a  moment,"  answered  Kate  un- 
flinchingly, and  for  once  she  spoke  the  truth. 

"But  your  baby?"  queried  Sylvia. 

Kate  sat  down  on  the  lounge  before  replying. 
"She  is  in  a  convent  now." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"Nearly  sixteen." 

"Does  she  know  what  you  did  for  her?" 

"Not  yet,  but  when  she  is  old  enough  to  under- 
stand I  shall  tell  her." 


THE    LURE  175 


"Do  you  think  she  will  thank  you  then  for  having 
saved  her  life?" 

"Yes,"  said  Kate  stoutly.  "And  if  she  is  worthy 
of  being  my  daughter,  under  the  same  circumstances, 
if  it  were  necessary,  she  would  do  the  same  for  me. 
Any  daughter  would  who  is  worth  her  salt." 

"But  think  of  the  price,"  said  Sylvia  waveringly; 
"think  of  that  awful  price." 

Her  long  fast — she  had  eaten  nothing  since  her 
luncheon  at  the  shop;  her  worries,  her  fear  for  her 
mother's  life;  the  relentless  arguments  which  this 
woman  was  presenting  to  her  began  to  tell  upon 
Sylvia.  She  sank  down  on  the  couch  and  began 
weighing  the  matter  in  her  mind.  The  instant  she 
touched  the  couch  Kate  rose.  In  her  own  heart  she 
knew  now  she  was  mistress  of  the  situation. 

"Price,"  she  repeated  sneeringly;  "price,  that's  a 
nice  thing  for  you  to  consider  when  your  mother 
must  have  that  nourishing  food  and  medicine,  and 
the  country  and  fresh  air  and  life ;  and  you  stop  to 
think  of  'price';  pull  yourself  together,  my  dear; 


176  THE    LURE 


don't  think  of  yourself;  think  only  of  your  mother; 
blood  is  thicker  than  morals." 

Unnoticed  by  Sylvia  the  door  opened  and  Carrie 
tiptoed  into  the  room.  Kate  beckoned  to  her. 

Sylvia,  who  was  almost  fainting  now,  scarcely 
seemed  to  hear  what  they  were  saying. 

"Carrie,"  said  Kate,  "this  is  a  little  friend  of 
mine,  Miss  Gladys  Gordon,  I  want  you  to  take  very 
good  care  of  her.  She  is  going  downtown  in  the 
taxi  with  me  in  fifteen  minutes.  I  want  you  to  take 
her  into  Number  two  and  help  her  change  her  dress  ; 
give  her  one  of  the  prettiest  of  those  new  gowns 
that  arrived  this  evening." 

Carrie  slipped  her  arm  around  Sylvia ;  Kate  sup- 
ported her  from  the  other  side.  Together  they  led 
the  half  fainting  girl  toward  the  door. 

"Now,  don't  worry,  my  dear  child,  just  be  brave, 
that's  all.  Everything  will  be  all  right,"  Kate  con- 
tinued cheerily.  "Think  of  your  mother  and  the 
money  you  will  have.  Go  along,  go  along,  that's  a 
good  girl;  that's  right,"  and  Kate  closed  the  door 
behind  them. 


CHAPTER  XII 

For  several  moments  Kate  stood  by  the  closed 
door  of  Number  two,  listening  apprehensively  to 
hear  if  Sylvia  made  any  further  protests.  While 
she  was  still  standing  there  the  office  door  opened 
and  Paul  and  Jim  Wilson  burst  into  the  room. 

"Who  is  in  Number  two?"  asked  Paul,  quick  to 
notice  Kate's  listening  attitude. 

"No  one  to  worry  about,"  Kate  turned  to  him 
calmly.  "She's  just  a  new  girl." 

"The  one  that  was  sitting  in  the  outer  office?" 
asked  Paul  eagerly.  "By  G — ,  she's  a  queen.  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  when  I  went  out.  She  is  a 
peach.  Did  she  come  here  voluntarily?"  demanded 
Wilson. 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Kate,  "what  do  you  take 
me  for,  you  don't  suppose  I  am  looking  for  any 
extra  trouble  at  a  time  like  this  ?" 

"Kate,  you  are  a  wonder,"  exclaimed  Paul,  with 
177 


178  THE    LURE 


admiration  in  his  tone.  "They  fall  for  you  almost 
as  easy  as  they  fall  for  me." 

Then,  turning  to  Wilson,  he  added:  "I've  only 
got  six  this  month,  and  this  makes  the  fourth  for 
her." 

"Well,  as  long  as  she  came  voluntarily  it's  her 
own  business  and  not  ours,"  said  Wilson. 

"She  was  hard  up,  poor  little  devil,"  explained 
Kate.  "Her  mother  is  dying;  she  needed  medicine 
and  things." 

"Well,  that's  all  right ;  that's  a  whole  lot  better 
than  Paul's  way  of  getting  them,"  said  Wilson. 

"Ah,"  retorted  Paul,  "there's  always  class  to 
mine." 

"Class  be  damned,"  said  Wilson.  "Dress  up  a 
good-looking  shop  girl  in  silk,  fix  her  hair  up  and 
you  can't  tell  her  from  a  millionaire's  daughter." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can,"  retorted  Paul. 

"Well,  Kate,  all  I  ask  of  you  is,  once  you  get 
downtown,  for  God's  sake,  keep  an  eye  on  her. 
These  suicide  girls  don't  pay  any  dividends." 


THE    LURE  179 


"We'll  make  her  Number  eight,  in  place  of  the 
little  Springfield  kid,"  said  Paul. 

Kate  walked  to  her  desk  and  sat  down.  She 
looked  tired  and  haggard.  "She's  a  pretty  girl," 
mused  Kate.  "I  was  sorry  for  her.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  that  damn  Carrie  butting  in  I  believe  I 
would  have  sent  her  back  home." 

"Oh,  you  would,  eh?"  said  Wilson  surlily; 
"why?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Kate,  a  little  regretfully. 
"I  was  sorry  for  her,  poor  thing,  and  then  she 
brought  back  a  picture  to  me." 

"A  picture  of  yourself,  I  suppose,  in  your  salad 
days,"  sneered  Wilson. 

"Ah,  sympathy  stuff,  eh?"  laughed  Paul  sarcasti- 
cally. 

"Well,  suppose  it  is  sympathy  stuff?"  exclaimed 
Kate  to  Paul,  ignoring  Wilson's  sneer.  "After  all, 
we  are  the  women  who  need  it  the  most." 

"Yes,"  retorted  Paul,  "and  you  are  the  women 
who  get  the  least  of  it." 

"That's  because  there  are  so  many  women  in  this 


180  THE    LURE 


game,  my  dear  Kate,"  remarked  Wilson,  with  an- 
other sneer,  "that  there  isn't  enough  sympathy  to  go 
round." 

"Oh,  no,  it's  not,"  Kate  flashed  back  at  him.  "It's 
because  it's  only  in  our  society  that  men  dare  to 
show  themselves  the  beasts  which  they  really  are." 

Paul  burst  out  laughing.  "I'll  tell  you  what,  Jim, 
let's  all  reform  and  start  a  rescue  home  for  men." 

"They  need  it,  God  knows,"  said  Kate  bitterly, 
"and  when  you  start  this  reform  business  reserve  a 
special  ward  for  the  religious  old  landlords  who 
grow  rich  charging  us  double  rent  for  their  houses." 

It  was  Wilson's  turn  to  laugh  now.  "Oh,  they 
are  long  past  reformation,"  he  remarked. 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  outer  door-bell.  All 
three  started  to  their  feet.  "You  go,  Paul,  see  who 
it  is." 

Paul  hurried  out.  Wilson  and  Kate,  listening 
apprehensively,  heard  the  sound  of  voices  at  the 
door.  Then  came  the  sound  of  footsteps  coming 
down  the  corridor.  With  Paul  as  he  reentered  the 
room  was  another  man,  Bob  MacAuley. 


THE    LURE  181 


"Who  are  you?  What  do  you  want  here?"  said 
Kate,  stepping  quickly  forward.  "This  office  is 
closed  for  the  night." 

"I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  madam,"  said  Mac- 
Auley  coolly,  "but  I  have  got  to  come  in  all  the 
same;  I  am  the  inspector  from  the  gas  company." 

"What's  the  matter,  what  do  you  want?"  asked 
Kate  impatiently. 

"The  superintendent  of  the  building  reported  a 
strong  smell  of  gas,  I  have  got  to  investigate,"  re- 
turned Bob. 

At  this  moment  Wilson  stepped  forward.  "Wait 
a  minute,"  he  exclaimed  importantly;  "you're  from 
the  gas  company,  eh?" 

"That's  what  I  said,"  remarked  Bob. 

"If  you  are  from  the  gas  company  you  have  got 
a  badge,  I  suppose ;  let  me  see  it." 

Bob  smiled  in  a  good-natured  way  and  produced 
a  metal  pass.  He  also  took  a  pair  of  gas  pliers  from 
his  hip  pocket.  Then,  throwing  his  coat  open,  he 
exclaimed :  "Here  is  another  one.  Here  is  my 


182  THE    LURE 


union  card  sewed  to  the  lining  of  my  vest,  if  you 
want  to  see  that." 

"It's  all  right,  Miss  Kate ;  let  him  go  ahead,"  said 
Wilson;  and,  then  turning  to  Paul,  he  added :  "See- 
ing is  believing,  you  know;  you  mustn't  mind  my 
questioning  you.  That  gas  man  gag  is  an  old 
dodge  of  the  burglars,  you  know." 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  suppose  there 
is  so  much  difference  between  a  burglar  and  a  gas 
man,"  laughed  Bob  casually. 

Wilson  turned  on  him  with  a  sneer.  "You're  a 
smart  guy,  ain't  you — for  a  gas  man." 

"Oh,  just  smart  enough  to  stop  an  occasional  gas 
leak.  There's  a  bad  one  around  your  place  some- 
where." 

"Yes,  I  know  there  is,"  said  Kate,  trying  to 
smooth  over  the  situation.  "I  noticed  several  times 
this  afternoon  there  was  a  strong  smell  of  gas." 

"Did  you  find  it?"  asked  Bob. 

As  he  turned  to  ask  her  this  question  he  recog- 
nized Kate  Lockwood  for  the  first  time.  Here  was 


THE    LURE  183 


the  woman  who  had  given  that  card  to  Sylvia  that 
day  at  the  silk  stocking  counter. 

"No,"  said  Kate,  "I  don't  think  it  can  be  on  this 
floor;  the  leak  must  be  upstairs  somewhere." 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  look  this  floor  over  first  myself. 
You  see  I  have  got  to  make  a  report  on  it." 

"Why  so?"  said  Kate,  a  little  startled. 

"Don't  bother  about  it;  leave  it  until  the  morn- 
ing; we'll  look  after  it.  Perhaps  we'll  find  it  for 
ourselves  in  the  meantime,"  said  Wilson. 

"And  you  are "  said  Bob,  turning  to  Wilson 

questioningly. 

Wilson  changed  his  tone.  He  became  a  little 
more  confidential.  "I  am  the  leader  of  this  district ; 
I  am  here  on  a  little  burglary  case  helping  the  po- 
lice." 

Then,  turning  to  Kate,  he  remarked :  "I  shouldn't 
be  at  all  surprised,  Miss  Kate,  if  the  burglar  didn't 
leave  the  gas  jet  open  himself." 

"I  expect  he  did,"  said  Kate. 

"In  place  of  a  visiting  card,"  said  Bob  jocosely. 


184  THE    LURE 


All  three  of  them  laughed  in  rather  a  nervous 
sort  of  way. 

"Of  course,  if  you  are  not  satisfied,  look  the  build- 
ing over  yourself,"  said  Wilson,  still  more  genially. 

"Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  did  intend  this  to  be 
my  last  job  to-night,"  said  Bob,  turning  toward  the 
door  of  Number  two,  as  though  about  to  go  out  that 
way;  "but  if  you  think  it's  O.  K.  about  the  leak  and 
that  I  can  fix  it  as  well  in  the  morning,  I'll " 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  said  Wilson,  interrupting  him. 
"You'd  better  look  it  over." 

While  Wilson  was  speaking  Paul  darted  forward 
and  got  between  Wilson  and  the  door  of  Number 
two.  Wilson  pulled  a  cigarette  case  from  his  pocket 
and,  opening  it,  held  it  toward  Bob. 

"Thanks,  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  MacAuley,  still 
holding  his  ground. 

Kate  meanwhile  had  gone  to  a  door  which  led 
toward  the  area  entrance.  Opening  it  hurriedly,  she 
said :  "This  way,  this  way,  the  smell  of  the  gas  is 
from  somewhere  over  here." 

"Can  I  get  out  that  way  without  disturbing  you 


THE    LURE  185 


again?  Oh,  very  well,"  said  Bob,  "hope  you  get 
your  burglar,  gentlemen." 

"Of  course  we'll  catch  him,"  said  Kate,  as  she 
smilingly  showed  Bob  out. 

"Who  is  that  man,  do  either  of  you  know  him?" 
exclaimed  Kate  the  moment  the  door  shut  behind 
MacAuley. 

"No,"  said  Wilson,  "and  I  thought  I  knew  all  the 
gas  men  around  here." 

"I've  never  seen  him  before,  either,"  said  Kate. 
"He  is  too  bright  for  a  gas  man.  There's  some- 
thing about  him  I  don't  like." 

"Well,  his  badge  is  O.  K.,  anyway,"  remarked 
Wilson.  "Still  you  might  keep  an  eye  on  him, 
Paul." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  he  is  all  right,"  said  Paul.  "Kate  is 
so  nervous  she  would  shy  at  a  shadow  to-night." 

"Shut  up,  Paul;  come  down  to  business,"  Kate 
exclaimed,  going  back  to  her  desk.  "Tell  me  now, 
what  have  you  done  about  the  body?" 

"Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  said  Wilson  confi- 
dently. "I'll  get  the  burial  permit  issued  to-night 


186  THE    LURE 


and  I'll  send  it  downtown  to  you.  When  you  get  it 
phone  to  Riley  the  undertaker.  He'll  take  her  down 
the  back  stairs.  That'll  be  the  end  of  it." 

"That's  good,"  said  Kate,  with  a  great  sigh  of 
relief. 

"Hold  on,  wait  a  minute,"  interrupted  Paul. 
"After  that,  what  then?" 

"Why,  he'll  keep  her  in  his  undertaking  room  for 
several  days  till  the  whole  matter  has  blown  over." 

"For  some  detective  to  identify;  not  on  your 
life,"  cried  Paul  authoritatively.  "You  tell  Riley 
to  send  her  right  out  to  the  Potter's  field." 

"That'll  be  pretty  tough  on  her  folks,  don't  you 
think?"  said  Wilson. 

"It's  too  late  to  worry  about  her  folks,"  said 
Kate.  "Anyway,  they'd  rather  not  know  the  truth." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  are  right,  Kate,"  said  Wilson, 
picking  up  his  hat. 

As  he  rose  to  go  Paul  walked  to  the  door.  "I 
guess  I'd  better  go  and  look  at  Nell  in  Number 
three ;  she'll  be  coming  to  in  a  few  minutes,  and  if 


THE    LURE  187 


she  should  make  any  row  with  that  gas  man  in  the 
house  it  would  raise  the  devil  with  all  of  us." 

Wilson  dropped  his  hat  on  the  table  again  as  Paul 
left  the  room. 

"What's  that;  another  one?"  he  cried.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  about  this  before?  I  didn't  know 
you  had  another  girl  here.  That  little  rat  of  a  hus- 
band of  yours  will  raise  hell  with  all  of  us  yet." 

"Why,  he's  all  right,"  answered  Kate.  "This  is 
a  girl  that  he  only  got  a  hold  of  this  morning.  He 
had  her  in  the  downtown  place,  and  then  when  this 
suicide  happened,  he  thought  it  was  safer  to  bring 
her  up  here  for  the  night.  You  can't  blame  him  for 
that." 

"My  God,  woman,"  cried  Wilson  furiously. 
"When  am  I  going  to  be  able  to  beat  in  your  head 
that  we  are  all  standing  over  a  lot  of  dynamite?" 

"How,  what's  happened  now,  anything  new?" 
cried  Kate,  her  face  growing  white  again. 

"Don't  you  know  the  government  detectives  are 
in  the  city,  trying  to  trace  that  Springfield  girl  ?  Why 


188  THE    LURE 


in  the  name  of  God  didn't  you  have  better  sense  than 
to  let  Paul  bring  a  woman  across  the  State  line?" 

"It  wasn't  my  fault ;  how  am  I  to  blame  ?  I  knew 
nothing  about  the  Springfield  girl  until  he  got  her 
here." 

"Yes,  it  is  your  fault,  you  ought  to  know  these 
things;  it's  your  business  to  know  them." 

"But  I  didn't  know  until  two  days  after  he  got 
her  here  where  she  came  from." 

Wilson  was  furious  with  rage.  Walking  close 
up  to  her,  he  shook  his  fist  in  Kate's  face.  "What 
do  you  think  I  put  you  in  charge  of  that  house  for? 
To  go  to  sleep  on  the  job  and  let  that  fool  put 
stripes  on  us  all  ?" 

Kate  turned  and  tried  to  edge  away  from  the 
furious  man.  "I  have  done  the  best  I  could,  Jim," 
she  cried  pleadingly.  "The  best  for  all  of  us;  for 
you  especially." 

"No,  you  haven't,"  he  snarled,  grabbing  her  by 
the  arm.  "You  make  one  more  break  like  this  and 
I'll  take  the  house  away  from  you,  and  throw  you 
back  into  the  streets  where  you  came  from." 


THE    LURE  189 


Wincing  from  pain  and  furious  with  anger,  Kate 
wrenched  herself  free. 

"Yes,"  she  cried,  as  though  daring  him  to  do  his 
worst,  "and  where  you  put  me  fifteen  years  ago, 
when  I  was  the  new  girl  and  you  were  the  'Paul.' ' 

"Now,  let  me  tell  you  something  once  for  all, 
Kate,"  Wilson  continued.  "I  don't  care  how  many 
girls  you  and  Paul  and  the  others  get  here  in  town 
or  in  any  part  of  the  state;  nor  do  I  care  how  you 
get  them,  but  don't  you  ever  bring  another  woman 
across  the  state  line.  You  know  the  limits  of  my 
pull.  You  know  I  haven't  got  any  influence  to  stop 
a  government  prosecution,  and  if  hell  breaks  loose 
over  this  Springfield  job  you  and  Paul  are  the  ones 
that  are  going  to  take  a  trip  to  the  Federal  peni- 
tentiary. Now  you'll  get  that,  and  remember  it." 

"Jim,"  she  cried,  horror  stricken,  "do  you  mean 
to  say  that  after  all  these  years  you'd  sacrifice  me  ?" 

"That's  just  what  I  do  mean,  damn  you ;  what  else 
do  you  suppose  I  mean?  I'd  sacrifice  you  in  a 
minute." 


190  THE    LURE 


Kate  turned  on  him  like  a  tigress.  All  fear  of  him 
had  vanished  now.  "Oh,  you  would,  eh?" 

"Yes,  I  would,"  growled  Wilson. 

A  great  calm  seemed  to  come  over  Kate  all  of  a 
sudden.  She  folded  her  arms  and  walked  deliber- 
ately up  to  him. 

"Well,  now,  you  listen  to  me,  Jim  Wilson ;  listen 
with  all  your  ears,  because  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
something — something  you  want  to  remember  for 
the  rest  of  your  life.  All  this  talk  of  yours,  of  send- 
ing me  back  to  the  streets  and  letting  me  go  to  jail 
don't  make  a  hit  with  me.  I  am  not  going  to  turn 
you  up  to  the  law,  and  I  am  not  going  to  turn  you 
up  to  your  wife  and  break  her  heart,  and  you're  not 
going  to  turn  me  out,  either.  Don't  you  forget  that 
for  one  moment.  You've  always  split  the  profits 
when  things  were  easy,  and  whenever  the  music 
starts  for  any  of  us  you  are  going  to  join  the  dance. 
It  will  be  on  the  house,  and  remember  you're  a  half 
owner." 

The  deadly  menace  in  her  tone  had  its  effect  on 
Wilson.  He  turned  toward  her,  scowling  still,  but 


THE    LURE  191 

not  nearly  so  viciously  as  before  the  woman  had 
made  her  threat. 

"Well,  you  heard  what  I  said,"  he  continued  sur- 
lily. "You'd  better  put  it  in  your  pipe  and  smoke 
it." 

"Yes,  and  I  advise  you  not  to  forget  what  I  said, 
Jim  Wilson.  I  am  warning  you  for  your  own  good. 
All  the  political  pulls  you  have  in  the  world  won't 
do  you  a  bit  of  good  when  you  get  a  desperate 
woman  like  me  on  your  trail." 

Ignoring  this  lasl  threat  of  Kate's  completely, 
Wilson  turned  toward  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
he  paused  for  a  moment.  "There's  just  one  thing 
more,"  he  said.  "You  tell  that  fool  Paul  to  get 
both  of  those  girls  out  of  here  right  away;  have 
them  taken  downtown  anywhere  he  pleases,  but  out 
of  here  they  have  got  to  get;  and  if  anything  un- 
usual happens  to-night,  either  here  or  downtown, 
you  get  me  on  the  phone  at  once,  do  you  hear?" 

"Where?"  asked  Kate,  in  a  significant  tone. 

"At  home,"  growled  Wilson.    "My  wife  has  got 


192  THE    LURE 


a  dinner  party  on.  I  promised  to  be  home  at  eight 
o'clock." 

"Huh,"  laughed  Kate  sneeringly. 

"Remember,  now,  I  have  put  you  on  your  guard, 
now  play  close.  And  remember,  if  anything  does 
happen,  it's  up  to  you.  It's  you  and  Paul  that  will 
have  to  take  the  consequences;  and  it  will  be  back 
to  the  streets  for  yours." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Two  minutes  later  when  Paul  returned  to  the 
private  office,  he  saw  instantly  by  Kate's  face  that 
she  and  Wilson  had  been  having  a  row. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  asked.  "What's  that  big 
stiff  been  saying  to  you  now  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing  new,"  she  answered.  "Just  the 
same  old  guff  which  he  always  hands  me  when  he 
gets  into  a  rage.  He  did  say  one  new  thing.  I  was 
forgetting  that." 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Paul. 

"He  says  we  have  got  to  take  both  of  these  girls 
out  of  this  house  to-night,  quick." 

"Ah,  let  him  attend  to  the  dead  one  downtown, 
I'll  look  after  these  two  all  right.  As  long  as  they 
keep  their  mouths  shut  we  have  got  nothing  to  fear 
from  them." 

"But  he  is  right,  Paul,"  continued  Kate.    "It's  an 

awful  risk  we  are  running  in  having  girls  here  at  a 
193 


194  THE    LURE 


time  like  this.  Suppose  the  police  should  come  here 
this  very  minute,  now  what  would  we  do.  They 
would  have  us  red-handed,  wouldn't  they?" 

"Well,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it,"  re- 
torted Paul,  "why  have  you  been  wasting  time  this 
night  trapping  this  new  girl,  eh  ?  You  can't  put  that 
up  to  me,  you  know.  That's  your  own  little  private 
•enterprise,  and  now  that  you  have  trapped  her,  now 
that  you  have  got  her  here  and  persuaded  her  to  go 
with  you,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  eh?" 

"I  will  tell  you  one  thing  I  am  going  to  do  about 
her,"  replied  Kate,  very  seriously.  "I  am  going  to 
keep  her  away  from  you.  I  don't  want  you  to 
frighten  her;  you  understand?  Don't  you  dare  to 
lay  a  finger  on  her." 

"Why  not?" 

"Just  because  I  say  so,  that's  why  not,"  said  Kate. 
"You  leave  her  alone,  I  tell  you ;  wait  till  we  get  her 
downtown  before  any  one  starts  anything  with  her. 
She  still  thinks  that  she  is  going  back  home  to- 
night. She  doesn't  realize  yet  that  she  is  our  pris- 
oner, and  one  word  from  you " 


THE   LURE  195 


"Ah,  Kate,  that's  where  you  make  your  great  mis- 
take," retorted  Paul.  "Take  a  tip  from  one  who 
knows  women  better  than  you  do.  Read  them  the 
riot  act  at  the  beginning  and  you  won't  have  any 
more  trouble  with  them." 

"There  is  no  use  trying  to  drive  a  woman  when 
she  is  leading,"  said  Kate. 

"None  of  your  finesse  for  me,"  retorted  Paul. 

"Finesse  is  better  than  force  any  day,"  said  Kate. 

"Not  for  mine,"  sneered  Paul.  "I  never  seen  it 
to  fail  yet.  When  a  man  treats  a  woman  decent  she 
will  throw  him  every  time." 

The  door  opened  suddenly,  and  in  came  the  mes- 
senger boy  again.  He  was  carrying  another  milli- 
ner's box.  His  entrance  startled  Kate.  She  sprang 
to  her  feet  apprehensively.  Paul  jumped,  too,  but 
at  sight  of  the  boy  he  pulled  himself  together  and 
exclaimed : 

"What  the  devil  do  you  want  here  ?" 

"It's  the  other  box,"  said  the  boy  blandly. 

"Didn't  my  maid  tell  you  not  to  bring  it  till  to- 


196  THE    LURE 


morrow  ?  What  do  you  mean  coming  back  here  this 
time  of  the  night?" 

"But  my  boss  told  me  to  bring  it,  see !"  said  the 
boy. 

He  produced  the  receipt  book  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  Kate  to  sign. 

"You  sign  for  it,  Paul,"  said  Kate,  waving  the 
boy  toward  her  husband. 

"But  I  got  to  have  a  personal  receipt." 

Paul  snatched  the  book  from  him  and  signed  the 
receipt. 

"Huh,  who's  the  boss  here,  anyway?    I " 

The  messenger  boy's  jaw  dropped  suddenly.  His 
eyes  grew  big  with  amazement.  He  was  gazing 
past  Paul  now  at  the  door  of  Number  two.  The 
door  had  opened.  There  on  the  threshold  stood 
Carrie  half  supporting  Sylvia  who  was  now  dressed 
in  a  ball  gown. 

"She's  all  ready,  Miss  Kate;  don't  she  look 
pretty?"  exclaimed  Carrie,  and  then  suddenly  her 
mouth  shut  up  like  a  trap.  She  stood  transfixed. 
Her  eye  had  fallen  on  the  messenger  boy. 


THE   LURE  197 


Paul,  quick  to  realize  the  danger  of  the  situation, 
forced  the  receipt  book  into  the  messenger's  hands, 
took  the  lad  by  the  shoulders  and  hustled  him  out 
of  the  room. 

"Come  on,  get  out  now.  We're  in  a  hurry,  you 
see.  I  got  to  take  that  little  niece  of  mine  uptown 
to  a  party.  Here's  two  dollars  for  all  your  trouble," 
and  Paul  thrust  two  one  dollar  bills  into  the  young- 
ster's hands. 

"Why,  it  fits  like  a  glove,"  Kate  was  exclaiming, 
as  Paul  reentered  the  room. 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  wear  it,"  cried  the  girl. 
"Let  me  take  it  off,  please." 

"They'll  all  be  jealous  of  you  when  they  see  you. 
Don't  try  to  cover  those  pretty  shoulders." 

"Say,  kid,  you're  all  right,"  exclaimed  Paul  leer- 
ingly,  taking  several  steps  toward  Sylvia. 

"Oh,"  Sylvia  gave  a  gasp  of  terror  and  recoiled 
from  him. 

"Now,  Paul,  what  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  Kate 
warningly.  "You  get  out  of  here;  you  leave  us 
alone ;  this  is  no  place  for  you." 


198  THE    LURE 


"Oh,  very  well,  then ;  don't  let's  get  fussy.  We'll 
meet  again  downtown,"  he  added  meaningly,  as  he 
left  the  room. 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him;  he's  only  one 
of  my  employees.  Box  his  ears,  my  dear,  if  he 
ever  offers  you  any  impertinence." 

"Oh,  but  I  am  so  ashamed,  so  ashamed,"  wailed 
Sylvia. 

"Ah,  it's  all  right,  it's  all  right,"  urged  Kate. 

"Carrie,  get  me  my  smelling-salts,  the  poor  child 
looks  faint,  and  my  rouge  box,  too;  her  cheeks  are 
as  pale  as  chalk;  to  set  off  that  lovely  gown,  she 
must  have  just  the  least  little  bit  of  color." 

"I  can't  go  with  you,  I  can't,"  cried  Sylvia,  so 
faint  by  this  time  that  she  could  scarcely  stand. 
"It's  impossible;  it's  too  awful,  I " 

"Ah,  brace  up,  child,  brace  up,"  cried  Kate. 
"Think  of  your  mother  and  what  it  means  for  her." 

"I  can't,  I  tell  you." 

"Brace  up,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Kate,  command- 
ing now.  "Why,  you  look  like  a  lost  soul.  A  face 


THE    LURE  199 


like  that  won't  do  you  any  good.  Men  only  care 
for  women  who  smile." 

With  a  little  groan  Sylvia  lurched  forward  and 
fell  unconscious  into  Kate's  arms. 

Kate  promptly  dropped  her  on  the  leather  couch 
and  let  her  lie  there  face  downward  just  as  she  fell. 
"She's  fainted,  Carrie,"  cried  Kate,  as  the  colored 
girl  returned  with  the  smelling-salts;  "but  that 
doesn't  matter.  It  will  give  me  a  chance  to  dress, 
and  perhaps  she'll  be  more  reasonable  when  she 
comes  to." 

"Here's  her  purse,  Miss  Carrie;  I  thought  you 
might  want  to  look  at  it." 

Kate  snatched  the  purse  and,  opening  it,  pulled 
out  a  nickel.  "Poor  little  devil,"  she  said,  as  she 
looked  at  it.  "She  wasn't  lying  after  all." 

Then,  looking  into  the  purse  again,  and  drawing 
out  a  card,  she  exclaimed:  "Here's  what  I  want; 
here  is  her  address,  'Sylvia  Jones,  sixty-four  Brook 
Street' ;  keep  that  card,  Carrie ;  have  you  ordered  the 
taxi?" 


200  THE    LURE 


"Yes'm,  I  got  Dan.  He  is  waiting  at  the  side 
door." 

"Very  well,  then;  she's  good  for  ten  minutes  at 
least.  You  stay  here  and  watch  her  while  I  get 
dressed." 

Left  alone  with  the  unconscious  girl,  Carrie  stood 
looking  at  her  contemptuously  for  a  moment.  Then 
as  soon  as  she  thought  her  mistress  was  well  out  of 
the  way,  she  crossed  to  the  desk,  opened  the  drawer 
and  took  out  Kate's  purse. 

"So,  she  was  goin'  to  give  you  a  hundred  dol- 
lars, eh?"  remarked  Carrie  to  the  unconscious  Syl- 
via. "A  hundred  dollars;  after  to-night  I  guess  I 
can  use  that  money  myself.  Ah'm  dead  sick  of  this 
whole  business,  anyhow.  Things  is  gettin'  a  bit  too 
warm  round  here,  and  I  ain't  bought  no  summer 
clothes  yet;  Ah  guess  this  is  where  little  Carrie 
makes  a  final  haul  and  lights  out." 

So  saying,  she  transferred  Kate's  entire  roll  of 
bills  from  the  purse  to  her  stocking. 

While  this  interesting  transaction  was  going  on 
the  side  door  which  led  to  the  areaway  opened 


THE    LURE  201 


softly  and  Bob  MacAuley  and  the  messenger  boy 
tiptoed  into  the  room. 

From  where  they  stood  it  was  impossible  for 
them  to  see  Sylvia  as  she  lay  unconscious  on  the 
high-backed  couch. 

"Is  this  the  room?"  whispered  Bob. 

The  messenger  boy  nodded  his  head. 

"Don't  see  any  girl  in  here,"  Bob  went  on. 

"No,  sir,  but  that's  the  coon  that  brought  her  in," 
whispered  the  boy,  as  he  pointed  to  Carrie. 

Bob  shoved  the  boy  gently  out  of  the  room  again. 

"Go  downstairs  to  the  door  again,"  he  said 
quietly,  "tell  the  two  men  I  left  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  to  run  up  here  as  soon  as  I  call." 

Then  he  closed  the  door  behind  him  and  stepped 
into  the  room. 

Carrie  jumped  and  leaped  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  mah  God,  how  you  did  startle  me,"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  she  turned  and  faced  Bob. 

"Leave  her  the  purse,"  said  Bob  significantly. 
"She  may  need  it." 

"But  Ah  ain't  doin'  nothing,  sir,"  expostulated 


202  THE    LURE 


Carrie,  quivering  with  fright.  "Ah  was  just  puttin' 
Mrs.  Lockwood's  things  away  for  the  night." 

"Say,"  exclaimed  Bob  warningly,  "keep  that  sort 
of  a  story  up  and  you'll  be  doing  time  again  in  about 
ten  minutes." 

That  "again"  had  the  desired  effect  on  Carrie. 

"Last  time,  you  know,  you  were  up  for  larceny 
alone;  this  time  you'll  go  up  for  larceny  and  kid- 
napping." 

"Oh,  mah  God,  Ah  don't  know  what  you  mean, 
sir;  you  ain't  never  laid  eyes  on  me  before  in  your 
life.  Why,  Ah've  only  been  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try a  week  and  a  half." 

"But  you  have  been  very  busy  while  you  have 
been  here,  haven't  you?  and  you  know  where  that 
little  girl  from  Springfield  is,  don't  you?  You 
brought  her  into  this  room  only  a  few  minutes  ago 
yourself,  didn't  you?" 

Carrie  started  to  defend  herself,  but  before  she 
could  speak,  MacAuley  turned.  He  saw  the  girl 
lying  on  the  sofa. 

"Ah,  wait,"  he  exclaimed. 


THE    LURE  203 


He  crossed  to  the  couch  quickly  and  touched  the 
girl  gently  with  one  hand. 

"Charlotte  Baker,"  he  exclaimed  softly,  as  though 
speaking  to  a  sleeping  child  he  was  afraid  to  awaken 
too  suddenly.  "It's  all  right,  Miss  Baker ;  don't  be 
afraid,  I  have  come  to  save " 

MacAuley  stopped  abruptly  and  wheeled  around. 
"Come  back  here,  come  back  here,  you  black  devil," 
he  cried  to  Carrie,  who,  while  he  had  been  speaking, 
was  edging  her  way  toward  the  door.  Drawing  a 
pistol  from  his  pocket,  he  grabbed  her  roughly  by 
the  arm  and  backed  her  up  against  the  closed  door 
of  Number  two. 

"Now  make  one  movement  and  I'll  put  a  bullet 
through  you;  understand  me?" 

MacAuley  laid  the  pistol  on  the  table  well  out  of 
Carrie's  reach.  Then  he  walked  to  the  leather  couch 
and,  stooping  down,  lifted  the  unconscious  girl  in 
his  arms.  As  he  did  so  Sylvia  began  to  recover 
consciousness.  She  raised  her  head,  and  recogniz- 
ing him  she  gave  a  poignant  little  cry. 

"Oh,  my  God,"  cried  MacAuley,  in  horror,  "it's 
you,  you,  you !" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  tell  me,  tell  me?"  cried 
Bob. 

The  moment  he  had  dropped  her  from  his  arms 
Sylvia  buried  her  face  in  the  couch  again. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  cried  Sylvia,  beating  her 
clenched  hands  on  the  couch. 

"You  don't  know?"  echoed  Bob,  the  cold  sweat 
standing  on  his  forehead. 

"Let  me  go  away,  take  me  out  of  this." 

"You  expect  me  to  believe  you  don't  know,  you, 
you  in  the  office  of  an  infamous  woman  who  hires 
girls  for  one  purpose  only." 

"Don't,  don't ;  please,  take  me  away ;  I  can  explain 
once  we  are  out  of  here." 

Carrie,  who  had  been  watching  her  chance,  again 

began  to  creep  catlike  toward  the  office  door. 

204 


THE    LURE  205 


With  one  leap  MacAuley  had  her  by  the  throat. 
"Wait,"  he  exclaimed  sternly. 

Then,  as  he  released  his  hold  on  her,  he  ex- 
claimed sarcastically:  "God,  are  all  you  women 
alike  ?  how  much  salary  do  you  get  ?" 

"Fifteen  dollars  a  week,  sir,"  gasped  Carrie,  in- 
finitely relieved  that  MacAuley's  big  hands  no  longer 
had  a  grip  upon  her  throat. 

"Not  enough  to  buy  pretty  clothes  with,  eh  ?  have 
to  take  to  stealing  for  a  side  line." 

"No,  sir,"  protested  Carrie.  "Ah  ain't  never  stole 
nothin'  in  my  life.  Dat  money  which  you  saw  me 
abstract  from  the  purse  just  now  was  to  pay  the 
rent.  Ah  was  just  goin'  to  take  it  up  to  the  land- 
lord." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  but  what  I  prefer  your  way  of 
getting  extra  money,"  exclaimed  Bob,  glancing  with 
a  world  of  contempt  in  his  eyes  at  the  prostrate  girl 
upon  the  couch.  "It  may  not  be  honest,  but  at  least 
it's  more  or  less  respectable." 

"Don't  you  agree  with  me?"  he  went  on,  fiercely 


206  THE    LURE 


turning  to  Sylvia.  "Perhaps  you  are  prejudiced, 
however,  you,  oh,  God !" 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat  pocket  and 
drew  out  three  coins. 

"Here  are  two  dimes  and  a  nickel,"  he  cried.  "I 
put  them  away  carefully  to-night.  I  thought  I 
wanted  them  as  keepsakes;  but  I  have  decided  I 
don't." 

Again  he  turned  to  Carrie.  "Here,  you,"  he 
cried,  holding  the  coins  toward  her  in  his  hand. 
"Go  buy  yourself  a  bottle  of  beer.  Wait,  though." 

He  turned  to  Sylvia  again  with  a  bitter  sneer. 
"Perhaps  you  had  better  take  them,  after  all.  They 
belonged  to  you.  You  can  get  them  changed  into 
another  quarter  for  the  gas  meter." 

Sylvia,  still  with  her  face  hidden,  gave  a  piteous 
moan.  MacAuley  laughed  harshly. 

Carrie  made  another  leap  toward  the  door.  Again 
MacAuley  grabbed  her.  Placing  his  hand  over  her 
mouth,  he  dragged  her  to  the  door  which  led  to  the 
area  entrance. 

Jackson  and  Firman,  who  were  awaiting  his  call, 


THE    LURE  207 


came  forward  hurriedly.  They  seized  the  woman 
and  hustled  her  down  the  stairs. 

"Keep  her  quiet  down  there,"  said  MacAuley.  "I 
may  want  her  again  before  we  get  through  with 
this.  Gag  her  if  she  makes  the  slightest  sound." 

Without  an  instant's  pause  MacAuley  entered  the 
office  again,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

Sylvia  was  still  lying  sobbing  despairingly  upon 
the  couch. 

MacAuley  walked  toward  her  and  gazed  down 
upon  her  as  though  even  now  he  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve his  eyes.  He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  trousers 
pocket  and  produced  a  roll  of  bills. 

"While  we  are  on  the  subject  of  finances,"  he 
said,  throwing  the  roll  of  bills  on  the  couch  beside 
her,  "is  that  your  price  ?"  he  asked. 

For  the  first  time  Sylvia  raised  her  face  to  his. 

"Why  are  you  torturing  me  this  way?"  she  cried, 
moaning. 

"Am  I  torturing  you?"  he  said  sneeringly. 

The  girl  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  and  as 
she  did  so  MacAuley,  to  his  amazement,  found  that 


208  THE    LURE 


there  was  no  trace  of  shame  or  guilt  to  be  found  in 
her  face. 

"Yes,  you  know  you  are;  you've  nearly  killed 
me." 

"Good!"  cried  Bob  grimly.  "That's  what  I  am 
trying  to  do.  It  would  be  a  good  deal  better  for 
your  own  sake,  and  for  your  people,  if  you  were 
dead." 

"Why,  why?"  wailed  Sylvia.  "How  dare  you 
say  such  a  thing  as  that  ?  What  have  I  ever  done  to 
you?" 

"You  have  made  a  fool  out  of  me,  that's  all." 

"I  never  harmed  you  in  my  life,"  said  Sylvia, 
looking  at  him  again  unflinchingly. 

"You've  made  me  lose  what  little  faith  I  ever  had 
in  woman." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean,"  cried  the  girl. 

MacAuley's  face  was  white  with  rage  now. 

"Yes,  you  do  know  what  I  mean,"  he  exclaimed 
brutally,  "and  you  know  me,  too.  When  I  came 
into  this  room  you  crouched  down  on  that  chair  and 


THE    LURE  209 


covered  your  face  so  that  I  shouldn't  know  you; 
you  didn't  want  me  to  recognize  you." 

"Oh,  I  hoped  and  prayed  you  wouldn't,"  replied 
Sylvia. 

"Yes,  but  I  did,  though." 

"Yes,  but  at  least  you  might  have  had  the  de- 
cency  " 

MacAuley  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  in  a 
brutal  way.  "Decency,  eh !"  he  exclaimed.  "What 
does  a  girl  like  you  know  about  decency  ?  Look  me  in 
the  face  and  blush.  I  dare  you  to.  A  blush  is  the 
only  thing  a  woman  can't  counterfeit.  I  want  to 
see  you  try  to  blush ;  come  on,  now,"  he  concluded 
tauntingly;  "you  can't — you  can't." 

Sylvia  rose  from  the  couch  fearlessly  and  faced 
him. 

"I  can,"  she  said,  again  looking  him  full  in  the 
eyes. 

Trembling  with  rage,  it  was  all  that  MacAuley 
could  do  to  keep  his  hands  off  her. 

"You  can't;  you  have  sold  your  right  to  blush; 
why  don't  I  strangle  you  right  now  ?" 


210  THE    LURE 


"I  wish  you  would  rather  than  torture  me  like 
this." 

"So  I  am  torturing  you,  am  I  ?"  MacAuley  went 
on  ruthlessly;  "and  you  want  to  know  why;  well, 
it's  too  late  now  to  make  any  difference;  but  just 
for  luck  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  Do  you  know  what 
I  was  going  back  to  your  other  home  to  say  to  you 
to-morrow  morning?  Listen!  When  I  stood  out- 
side that  window  on  your  fire-escape  to-night  and 
saw  you  with  the  light  of  that  lamp  gleaming  on 
your  face  and  your  pretty  hair,  I  could  have  shouted 
with  joy  when  I  realized  that  I  had  found  you 
again,  as  I  always  knew  I  should !  It  was  you,  you ; 
the  girl  whose  image  I  carried  in  my  heart  for  so 
many  months.  The  girl  I  put  a  sacred  halo  about ; 
the  girl  I  put  into  a  shrine  and  worshiped  like  the 
poor  damn  fool  that  I  am;  and  when  I  left  you  to- 
night it  was  with  the  one  purpose  of  coming  back 
in  the  morning,  back  to  that  goodness,  that  courage, 
that  virtue  which  I  thought  were  yours  and  to  ask 
you  to  be  my  wife ;  to  tell  you  how  I  loved  you,  but, 
oh,  hell!  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  it? 


THE    LURE  211 


"Now  I  find  I  fell  for  something  that  had  already 
fallen." 

"That's  a  lie,"  said  the  girl,  "you  know  it  is." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  retorted  furi- 
ously. "Facts  speak  for  themselves,  don't  they? 
Well,  here  are  the  facts.  Two  hours  later  I  stumble 
across  you  by  accident  in  this  half-way  house  to 
hell,  decked  out  for  a  night's  debauch,  and  ready 
to  give  the  first  man  who  comes  along  with  the  price 
the  very  thing  I  could  have  sworn  you  would  go  to 
the  stake  to  keep." 

"And  I  was  going  to  the  stake,"  cried  the  girl 
piteously.  "I  was  going  to  worse  than  'the  stake,' 
and  I  knew  it." 

MacAuley's  lip  curled. 

"For  money,"  he  said,  with  infinite  contempt. 

"Listen  to  me,"  begged  Sylvia. 

"I  don't  want  to  listen,"  he  cried,  half  turning 
away  from  her. 

"Let  me  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  persisted. 

"I  know  the  truth  already;  I  have  already  seen 
the  truth.  I  know  it." 


212  THE    LURE 


Sylvia  caught  him  by  the  arms  and  almost  shook 
him.  It  was  her  turn  to  be  furious  now. 

"You  have  got  to  listen  to  me!"  she  cried.  "You 
must,  you  have  got  to!" 

"For  money,"  repeated  MacAuley,  as  he  tried  to 
pull  himself  away  from  her. 

But  the  girl,  desperate  now,  would  not  release  her 
hold. 

"Yes,  for  money,"  she  cried  hysterically.  "For 
money  to  save  my  mother's  life." 

MacAuley  wrenched  himself  free  from  her. 
"Don't  lie  to  me,"  he  said  surlily. 

But  there  was  no  escaping  from  Sylvia  now.  She 
turned  and  faced  him  with  clenched  hands.  "I'd  be 
afraid  to  lie  to  you,  and  I  don't  need  to  lie  to  you ; 
but  I  am  not  afraid  to  tell  you  the  truth.  You  saw 
my  mother  to-night,  but  you  don't  know  that  she 
is  slowly  dying;  you  don't  know  that  just  before 
you  came  into  that  room  to-night  she  had  been  lis- 
tening to  her  death  sentence  from  the  doctor,  simply 
because  we  didn't  have  a  hundred  dollars  to  buy 
medicine  and  food  and  sunshine  and  the  fresh  air 


THE    LURE  213 


necessary  to  keep  the  breath  of  life  in  her  dear 
body." 

"My  God!"  cried  MacAuley,  starting  back  from 
the  girl.  There  was  a  great  note  of  contrition  in 
his  voice,  but  Sylvia  paid  no  heed  to  it. 

"And  I  couldn't  earn  that  hundred  dollars,"  she 
went  on  vehemently.  "I  couldn't  beg  it — I  couldn't 
borrow  it — I  couldn't  steal  it  even,  and  yet  she  is 
dying  for  the  lack  of  it. 

"That  woman  told  me  she  often  had  work  even- 
ings, you  know  that  fact  is  true  because  we  spoke 
of  it  this  very  afternoon.  In  fact,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you  asking  me  who  the  woman  was  you  saw  me 
speaking  to  that  day  in  the  shop,  that  last  day  that 
you  saw  me,  I  wouldn't  be  here  now.  It  was  your 
question  about  her  which  put  the  idea  into  my  head 
again  of  trying  to  find  her.  After  you  left  me  I 
searched  through  all  my  things  again  and  found 
the  card  at  last,  and  so  I  came  here.  I  didn't  know 
what  I  was  coming  to,  or  what  the  work  was  to  be, 
and  when  I  found  out  what  it  was,  and  when  I 
wanted  to  go — when  I  tried  to  get  away,  she  drove 


214,  THE    LURE 


me  crazy.  I  don't  know  how.  It  all  seems  like  a 
daze  to  me :  how  I  came  to  be  in  this  dress,  how  you 
came  to  find  me.  All  I  know  is  it  was  for  my 
mother.  She  is  all  I  have  got  and  I  can't,  I  won't, 
let  her  die." 

MacAuley  stood  before  her,  dumb,  speechless. 
His  eyes  fell  before  the  gaze  of  the  girl  whom  he 
had  wronged  so  brutally,  but  into  his  face,  in  spite 
of  all  his  feelings,  there  crept  an  expression  of  great 
joy.  He  did  not  speak  for  many  seconds.  Then 
taking  her  hand  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it 
fervently. 

"Sylvia,"  he  said,  "can  you  forgive  me?  I've 
been  a  beast,  a  brute,  a  fiend  to  you.  I  beg  your 
pardon,  but  I  can  never,  never  forgive  myself." 

Then,  before  the  girl  could  answer,  he  turned  to 
her  with  all  of  his  old-time  alacrity.  "But  there  is 
no  time  to  talk  of  that  now,  my  girl;  tell  me,  how 
long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"About  an  hour." 

"Do  they  know  who  you  are?" 

"No,  she  never  asked  me  my  name,  and  things 


THE    LURE  215 


happened  so  rapidly  I  hadn't  time  to  tell  her.  No, 
I  am  sure  she  does  not  know  my  name." 

"Where  are  your  own  dress  and  hat  ?" 

"In  that  room,"  said  Sylvia,  pointing  to  Number 
two. 

"Good!"  cried  Bob;  "now  listen  carefully.  I  am 
here  on  duty.  I  have  got  to  find  a  little  girl  from 
Springfield.  I  think  they  have  got  her  imprisoned 
in  one  of  these  rooms.  I've  got  to  find  her.  I've 
got  to  get  her  out  of  here." 

"Wait,  wait,"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  a  sudden  light 
breaking  on  her  face.  "I  think  I  know  where  she 
is." 

"Where?"  cried  Bob  eagerly.  "You  have  seen 
her?" 

"No,  I  haven't  seen  her,  but " 

"What?"  queried  MacAuley  breathlessly. 

"I  heard  a  woman  moaning  and  crying  just  now 
in  a  room  across  the  corridor  from  mine." 

"Then  she  is  here,"  cried  Bob  triumphantly.  "We 
have  got  to  save  her,  Sylvia ;  now  steady,  listen,  how 
long  will  it  take  to  change  your  dress  ?" 


216  THE    LURE 


"Two  minutes,"  said  Sylvia. 

"Make  it  one,"  ordered  Bob. 

"I'll  do  it." 

"Good!"  said  Bob.  "Then  go  and  dress  now 
while  I  search  for  her." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Sylvia,  turning  toward  the  door 
of  Number  two. 

Bob  turned  and  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it 
fervently.  "I'd  stay  with  you  every  second,  but  this 
is  my  only  chance  to  get  to  her.  You  are  not 
afraid?" 

The  girl  turned  toward  him  and  shook  her  head 
and  smiled,  and  in  that  smile  Bob  MacAuley  read 
his  pardon. 

"No,"  said  Sylvia,  "I  am  not  a  bit  afraid — now." 


CHAPTER  XV 

As  Sylvia  hurried  into  Number  two  to  change 
her  clothes,  MacAuley  rushed  to  the  door  leading 
to  the  areaway  and,  summoning  Jackson,  told  him 
to  bring  Carrie  back  to  the  room  again. 

"Leave  her  in  here  with  me.  You  and  Firman 
stand  outside  close  to  the  door.  At  the  first  signal 
from  me  come  in  and  don't  waste  any  time  about  it, 
either." 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  MacAuley  added,  turning  to 
Carrie  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "all  I  have  got  to 
say  to  you  is,  for  your  own  sake  answer  my  ques- 
tions and  answer  them  truthfully." 

"Ah  don't  know  nothin' ;  Ah  ain't  done  nothin'." 

"Nothing  about  what?"  snapped  MacAuley. 

"About  nothin',"  affirmed  Carrie  positively. 

"Ah  was  just  closin'  up  the  house  for  the  night 
and  goin'  to  take  the  rent  up  to  the  landlord,  and 
in  you  pops;  that's  all  I  know  about  anything." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do;  you  know  well  enough  who  I 
217 


218  THE    LURE 


am  looking  for.  Where's  that  little  girl  from 
Springfield?" 

His  question  staggered  Carrie  for  the  moment, 
and  if  it  had  been  a  possibility  she  would  have  gone 
pale.  As  it  was  she  twitched  her  hands  and  stam- 
mered nervously  before  she  rallied  sufficiently  to  say 
what  was  actually  the  truth. 

"There  ain't  no  little  girl  from  Springfield  here, 
sir;  and  there  ain't  never  been  no  little  girl  from 
Springfield  here,  either,  that's  God's  blessed  truth." 

"Well,  where's  Kate  Lockwood  ?" 

Again  Carrie  paused  and  stammered  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"Go  on,  now,"  said  MacAuley  sternly.  "No  non- 
sense, now ;  where  is  she  ?" 

"She  is  in  there  dressin',"  said  Carrie,  and  she 
pointed  toward  the  room. 

"And  that  fellow  Paul,  where  is  he?" 

"Maybe  he  is  in  one  of  the  rooms  down  the  hall 
there,  somewhere;  or  he  may  have  gone  out  to  get 
a  drink.  Ah  don't  know;  Ah  don't  keep  no  track 
of  them  persons,  sir;  Ah  am  just  the  maid  here." 


THE    LURE  219 


"Come,  now,  no  more  nonsense,  tell  me  quick.  Is 
he  in  the  room  down  the  hall  where  they  have  got 
the  little  girl  locked  up?" 

"That  little  Springfield  girl,  you  mean?"  ques- 
tioned Carrie,  sparring  for  time.  "Ah  tell  you  there 
ain't  no  little  Springfield  girl,  sir;  not  here,  any- 
ways." 

At  that  moment  the  telephone  bell  rang. 

Carrie  jumped  half  a  foot  at  the  sound.  Mac- 
Auley  himself  started. 

Carrie  made  a  movement  to  go  to  the  phone,  but 
quick  as  a  flash  Bob  stopped  her.  "Hold  on,"  he 
said.  He  held  his  pistol  in  his  hand.  "Is  there  any 
one  but  you  likely  to  come  and  answer  that  phone  ?" 

"Why,  sure,  Master  Paul  or  Mrs.  Lockwood  will, 
if  they  only  ring  long  enough;  and  then  they'll  be 
givin'  me  the  devil  and  want  to  know  why  Ah  ain't 
fulfillin'  my  duties.  Please  point  that  gun  the  other 
way,  sir;  Ah  ain't  done  nothin'." 

MacAuley  backed  swiftly  up  the  room  and  with 
the  pistol  still  pointed  at  Carrie.  A  huge  old  ward- 
robe stood  in  one  corner  against  the  wall.  Turning 


220  THE    LURE 


swiftly  he  pulled  the  door  open  and  saw  to  his  relief 
that  while  the  wardrobe  was  not  empty  there  was 
plenty  of  room  for  him  to  stand  inside  of  it. 

"Listen,"  he  whispered  cautiously  to  Carrie,  "if 
you  make  one  movement  toward  that  phone,  or  if 
you  open  your  mouth  to  say  one  word  to  any  one 
who  enters  this  room  you  are  a  dead  woman.  Now 
if  you  value  your  black  body  you  keep  your  mouth 
shut  and  your  eyes  off  this  cupboard." 

"For  the  love  of  God!"  gasped  Carrie,  her  very 
teeth  shaking  with  fright. 

"If  that  bell  rings  again  let  him  come  in  here,  let 
him  answer  it,  and  you  stand  there.  And  you  an- 
swer him  just  like  you  would  if  you  didn't  know 
I  had  you  covered  with  this  gun  every  minute." 

"Oh,  please,  sir,  Ah,  can't  do  it,  Ah  am  so  ner- 
vous; Ah " 

"Well,  mind  you,  now,  it's  up  to  you ;  if  you  even 
bat  your  eye  you'll  be  in  hell  in  half  a  second." 

Again  the  telephone  rang. 

Pulling  the  door  of  the  wardrobe  to,  so  that  it 
concealed  him  completely,  but  still  was  sufficiently 


THE    LURE  221 


ajar  to  permit  him  to  keep  a  bead  on  Carrie,  Mac- 
Auley  awaited  developments  in  breathless  suspense. 

The  door  of  Kate's  room  opened  suddenly. 

Mrs.  Lockwood,  in  full  evening  dress,  was  put- 
ting on  a  pair  of  long  white  gloves. 

"Carrie,  where  the  devil  are  you!"  she  cried. 
"Why  don't  you  answer  that  phone?" 

At  the  sight  of  Carrie  standing  speechless  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  Kate  paused  in  sheer  amaze- 
ment. 

"You  must  be  mistaken,  Miss  Kate;  Ah  didn't 
hear  no  phone  ring." 

"What,  don't  tell  me  that;  why,  what's  the  matter 
with  you?  What  are  you  standing  there  for?" 

Suddenly  Kate  turned  toward  the  sofa  and  saw 
that  Sylvia  was  gone.  "My  God!"  she  cried, 
"where's  that  girl  gone?" 

"She,  she — she,"  gasped  Carrie,  with  the  sweat 
now  pouring  down  her  face.  "Why,  ain't  she  on 
the  couch,  ma'am?" 

"You  fool!"  hissed  Kate,  "don't  you  see  she  is 


THE    LURE 


not  on  the  couch?  What  in  the  name  of  heaven 
have  you  done  with  her?  Where  is  she?" 

"Ah  don't  know,  Miss  Kate;  Ah  ain't  seen  no 
sign  of  her  for  ten  minutes.  Ah  thought  she  was 
still  right  here  on  the  couch." 

"Why  don't  you  know,  then?" 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Miss  Kate,  Ah  just 
leff  her  here  for  half  a  minute,  just  half  a  minute." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  to  stay  here  with  her?"  cried 
Kate,  furious  with  rage  now.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  to 
watch  her  every  second  ?" 

"But,  Miss  Kate,  Mr.  Paul  called  me.  You 
wouldn't  have  me  disobey  Mr.  Paul." 

Kate  clasped  her  hands  together  in  consternation. 
Her  face  went  white.  "Good  God !"  she  said ;  "did 
he  take  her?  I  will  soon  stop  that." 

She  rushed  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open;  she 
strode  into  the  corridor  with  all  the  fury  of  a  trag- 
edy queen.  Then,  throwing  discretion  to  the  winds, 
she  called  at  the  top  of  her  voice:  "Paul,  Paul, 
bring  that  girl  back  here  instantly.  Instantly,  do 
you  hear  me?" 


THE    LURE  223 


Paul,  who  was  standing  at  the  door  of  Number 
three,  turned  so  quickly  in  answer  to  Kate's  sum- 
mons that  he  forgot  to  lock  the  door  behind  him. 
Like  a  frightened  rat  he  ran  down  the  corridor  and 
close  at  Kate's  heels  came  hurriedly  into  the  office. 

"What  is  it  ?"  cried  Paul.  "What  the  devil  are 
you  raising  this  row  about?" 

"Where  is  that  girl  ?  Where  is  she  ?  Where  is  she  ?" 

"Where  is  who?"  snarled  Paul. 

"I  told  you  to  leave  that  girl  alone,  didn't  I? 
Now  where  is  she,  what  have  you  done  with  her?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  talking  to  me  like  this?" 
cried  Paul,  now  thoroughly  mystified. 

"I  was  down  in  Number  three,  that's  Nell's  room. 
You  saw  where  I  was.  I  was  watching  to  see 
whether  she  had  come  to  or  not,  and  then  you  let 
this  yell  out.  Why  the  devil  don't  you  summon  the 
police  at  once?" 

"I  am  not  talking  about  Nell,"  cried  Kate.  "It's 
that  other  girl,  the  girl  I  told  you  to  leave  alone ;  the 
girl  from  Brook  Street,  Sylvia  Jones;  what  have 
you  done  with  her?" 


224  THE    LURE 


"Oh,  come  off;  you  must  have  gone  nutty,  I 
guess.  I  haven't  seen  her.  I  haven't  set  eyes  on 
her.  She  was  here  on  that  couch  in  this  room  with 
you." 

"What?"  cried  Kate,  in  her  amazement  and  ter- 
ror letting  her  opera  cloak  slip  from  her  shoulders. 
"You  mean  to  tell  me  that;  you  mean  to  say  you 
didn't  take  her  out  of  here  ?" 

"I  certainly  did  not;  I  haven't  seen  or  heard  of 
her,  so  help  me  God !" 

Kate  gazed  at  him  in  blank  amazement  as  though 
she  could  not  believe  her  ears. 

"I  left  her  here  on  this  couch  and  I  told  Carrie 
to  guard  her,  to  watch  her.  She  is  gone." 

"Well,  don't  jump  on  me  about  it,"  said  Paul 
surlily.  "Why  don't  you  ask  Carrie?" 

"She  had  fainted,"  Kate  went  on,  paying  no  at- 
tention to  Paul's  interruption,  "in  that  chair." 

"Fainted?"  sniffed  Paul  contemptuously. 

"Yes,  yes,  fainted,  that's  what  I  said,"  continued 
Kate.  "I  guess  I  know  when  a  girl  faints.  She  was 
down  and  out  if  ever  I  saw  one." 


THE    LURE  225 


"And  you  two  rubes  left  the  room,  huh  ?"  sneered 
Paul.  "Like  the  devil  she's  fainted.  She  was  kid- 
ding you,  and  she  got  both  your  goats.  That  girl's 
skipped.  That  is  what  she  has  done,  and  what's 
more  to  the  point,  she  has  probably  gone  straight  to 
the  police  station." 

"But  that  is  impossible,"  cried  Kate ;  "she  couldn't 
get  out.  The  doors  are  locked.  I  tell  you  she  is 
still  in  here  somewhere,  and  we  have  got  to  find 
her." 

"Ah,  she  is  half-way  home  by  now.  I  wouldn't 
trust  you  two  to  watch  a  sick  cat.  Maybe  you'll  quit 
this  finesse  stuff  after  a  while  and  follow  my  or- 
ders." 

"She  is  still  here,  I  tell  you,"  cried  Kate,  stooping 
down  and  snatching  up  the  opera  cloak  which  Sylvia 
had  been  wearing,  and  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor 
behind  the  couch.  "Here,  look  at  this;  here  is  the 
cloak  she  wore.  She  couldn't  have  gone  on  the 
street  in  that  other  dress." 

"Why  couldn't  she  ?  When  a  girl  is  caught  like  a 
rat  in  a  trap  and  is  going  to  run  out  of  a  hole  she 


226  THE    LURE 


can,  can't  she  ?  She  probably  grabbed  up  her  other 
clothes  and  took  them  along  with  her." 

"By  heavens,  you'll  pay  for  this,  if  this  girl  really 
has  gone,"  cried  Kate,  turning  on  Carrie  and  shak- 
ing her  fist  in  her  face. 

"Let's  search  through  all  of  the  rooms,"  Kate 
continued,  throwing  open  the  office  door  and  step- 
ping out  into  the  corridor. 

"It  ain't  my  fault,  Miss  Kate,"  cried  Carrie,  sud- 
denly bursting  into  tears,  but  not  daring  to  move  a 
foot,  as  Bob's  pistol  still  covered  her. 

"Find  her,  you  fool,  find  her,  or  I'll  break  your 
neck!" 

In  his  hurry  to  scramble  into  the  wardrobe  Mac- 
Auley  had  dropped  his  rain  coat  on  a  chair. 

Suddenly  Paul's  eyes  fell  on  it.  He  pounced  upon 
it  like  a  cat  on  a  mouse. 

"Carrie,  whose  rain  coat  is  this?"  cried  Paul. 

"Ah  don't  know,  sir,"  stammered  Carrie.  "Ah 
never  seen  it  before.  Perhaps  Mr.  Wilson,  he  might 
have  left  it." 


THE    LURE  227 

"Wilson  had  no  overcoat.  What  man  has  been 
here?"  demanded  Paul  sternly. 

"Ah  don't  know,  Mr.  Paul,  I  ain't  seen  nobody ; 
Ah  swear  to  God  Ah  ain't." 

"Nobody  has  been  in  here  but  Jim,"  said  Kate. 
"You  know  that,  Paul ;  at  least,  not  in  the  last  few 
minutes." 

"This  isn't  Jim's  coat,"  cried  Paul,  holding  it 
aloft. 

Kate  inspected  the  coat  carefully. 

"Well,  this  beats  everything,"  she  said.  "I  never 
saw  anything  like  it  before." 

"Hold  on;  wait  a  moment,"  exclaimed  Paul, 
growing  suddenly  suspicious.  "How  about  that  gas 
inspector,  wasn't  he  wearing  a  coat  something  like 

this?" 

"Yes,  but  he  never  took  his  coat  off  at  all,"  re- 
plied Kate.  "Don't  you  remember  he  had  the  collar 
turned  up  when  he  came  in.  He  opened  his  coat  to 
take  his  badge  out,  but  I  will  swear  he  never  took  it 
off.  This  can't  be  his." 

"Listen  to  me  now  and  tell  me  the  truth,"  said 


228  THE    LURE 


Paul,  glaring  at  Kate.  "How  long  have  you  hon- 
estly been  out  of  this  room  ?" 

"Five  or  six  minutes,  eight  at  the  very  outside; 
that's  all." 

Paul  turned  on  her  furiously. 

"Then  can't  you  see  what's  happened?  He  came 
back  here  while  you  were  out." 

"Paul,  it's  impossible ;  he  could  not  have  done  it," 
cried  Kate.  Though,  in  spite  of  her  denials,  her 
face  went  white  with  fear. 

"Impossible,  nothing;  that's  what  happened. 
There's  where  your  girl  has  gone  to.  He  took  her 
away  with  him." 

"You  don't  really  think  that,  Paul?"  exclaimed 
Kate,  shivering  and  dropping  into  a  chair.  "Good 
God,  if  that's  the  case  we  are  done  for." 

"He  is  no  gas  inspector;  I  knew  it  all  the  time; 
didn't  I  tell  you  so?  Damn  it,  why  didn't  you  watch 
him?  Didn't  I  say  he  was  a  detective?" 

"Well,  if  he  is  a  detective,  then,"  cried  Kate,  now 
trying  to  bluff  the  matter  out,  "he  must  be  in  here 
still;  so  is  she.  Carrie  says  she  is  not  in  Number 


THE    LURE 


two;  but  she  has  gone  out;  she  is  in  the  hall  some- 
where ;  she  is  in  one  of  those  rooms  upstairs.  Let's 
go  and  look." 

"We'll  all  have  to  do  time  for  this,"  cried  Paul. 
"I  always  knew  that  big-hearted  sympathy  stuff  of 
yours  sooner  or  later  would  land  us  all  behind  the 

bars." 

"Now,  Paul,  just  hold  your  horses  a  moment," 
cried  Kate,  "until  we  find  out  just  where  we  stand." 

"It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  that  way,"  cried 
Paul,  glaring  at  his  wife,  "but  what  about  me?  I 
am  the  one  that  will  have  to  suffer  more  than  any 
of  you  if  we  get  pinched.  They  have  been  laying  it 
for  me  for  more  than  two  years.  You  know  that, 
and  then  you,  my  wife,  of  all  people,  run  me  into  a 
trap  like  this.  My  God,  I  am  not  going  to  take  a 
chance;  I  am  going  to  get  out  of  here.  You  two 
will  have  to  look  out  for  yourselves." 

He  made  a  dart  toward  the  door,  but  Kate  caught 
hold  of  him.  "For  God's  sake,  Paul,"  she  said, 
"keep  your  head  a  minute  now ;  don't  turn  tail  until 
you  find  it  is  absolutely  necessary.  Who's  the  cow- 


THE    LURE 


ard  now,  I  would  like  to  know?  Listen  to  me:  I 
am  going  to  call  up  Jim  Wilson.  We  have  got  to 
get  him  here  this  minute ;  and  you,  Paul,  go  upstairs 
and  look  in  those  vacant  rooms;  and,  as  for  you, 
Carrie,  quick  to  Number  three  and  open  the  door; 
stay  in  that  room  with  Nell,  and  don't  you  leave  her 
for  one  second.  Now,  go!" 

Paul  threw  the  door  open  and  started  up  the  hall. 
Kate  turned  toward  the  telephone  and  began  to  ring 
it  frantically.  Carrie,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
door  of  the  wardrobe,  saw  to  her  amazement  that 
MacAuley  had  dropped  his  pistol.  She  took  this 
action  rightly  as  a  signal  for  her  to  get  out  of  the 
room. 

As  fast  as  her  fat  legs  could  carry  her  she  ran  to 
the  door  of  Number  three  and  opened  it. 

Quick  as  a  flash  MacAuley  was  out  of  the  ward- 
robe and  following  on  tiptoe  down  the  hall. 

Convinced  that  the  girl  in  Number  three  was  not 
the  little  Springfield  girl  that  he  was  looking  for,  he 
continued  his  way  down  the  corridor,  looking  in  all 
the  other  rooms. 


THE    LURE 


Kate,  in  her  frantic  efforts  to  get  Wilson  on  the 
phone,  had  not  even  heard  the  closing  of  the  ward- 
robe door. 

Then,  while  she  still  stood  at  the  phone  jiggling 
the  receiver  frantically,  the  door  of  number  two 
opened  and  Sylvia,  in  her  street  clothes,  appeared. 

Her  face  fell  as  she  saw  that  Bob  was  no  longer 
in  the  room,  but  there  was  no  time  to  retreat.  Syl- 
via decided  to  do  the  only  thing  which  was  possible 
under  the  circumstances.  Behind  Kate's  back  she 
tip-toed  across  the  room.  She  was  halfway  out  of 
the  office  door  when,  with  a  yell  of  delight,  Paul 
suddenly  pounced  upon  her,  caught  her  by  the  throat 
and  dragged  her  back  into  the  office,  slamming  the 
door  behind  her. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

"Let  me  out  of  here — let  me  out!"  cried  Sylvia, 
wrenching  herself  free  from  Paul,  whose  back  was 
now  against  the  door. 

"Not  so  fast,  my  proud  beauty,"  cried  Paul.  "So 
you  would  try  to  give  us  the  slip,  eh?  You  would 
try  to  bamboozle  this  credulous  little  wife  of  mine 
and  faint,  and  then  slip  into  your  other  clothes  when 
her  back  was  turned  ?  Well,  now,  we  have  got  you 
again  and  we  have  got  you  for  keeps,  see!" 

Desperate  now,  Sylvia  turned  toward  Kate  for 
protection,  but  all  that  that  woman  would  give  her 
was  a  stony  stare.  Mechanically  she  still  wiggled 
the  receiver  of  the  telephone  frantically.  But  her 
eyes  were  fixed  on  Sylvia  in  a  way  that  boded  the 
girl  no  good. 

"Be  careful,  Paul,"  she  said  finally  to  her  hus- 
band. "No  violence  now." 


THE    LURE  233 

"Here,  you  phone  for  Wilson.  Let  me  deal  with 
her.  What  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?"  de- 
manded Kate  as  Paul  took  the  receiver  from  her 
hand. 

"Let  me  out  of  here — do  you  hear?  That's  all  I 
have  got  to  say  for  myself,  and  if  you  don't  do  it 
quickly  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you,"  said  Sylvia. 

"Where's  that  man?"  demanded  Kate. 

"What  man?"  parried  Sylvia. 

"You  know  well  enough  what  man.  Now  come, 
where  is  he?" 

"He  is  gone." 

"Gone?    Gone  where?"  persisted  Kate. 

"How  should  I  know?"  said  Sylvia.  "He  was 
only  here  a  moment.  He  said  he  was  the  gas  in- 
spector and  came  back  to  get  his  coat." 

"Oh,  no,  he  didn't,"  sneered  Paul,  the  telephone 
receiver  still  in  his  hand.  "Here  is  his  coat." 

"Well,  that's  all  I  know  about  him,"  said  Sylvia, 
"and  now  what  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  let  me  out  of 
this  place  immediately." 


234  THE    LURE 


Kate  rose  to  the  occasion  now  with  something  of 
her  old-time  composure. 

"We're  all  at  loggerheads,  aren't  we?"  she  said. 
"Suppose  we  calm  down  and  talk  reasonably  for  a 
moment  or  two." 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  reasonably,  I  don't  want  to 
talk  at  all.  I  want  to  get  out  of  here.  Let  me  go." 

"Certainly  I  will  let  you  go,"  said  Kate  quite  af- 
fably, "after  you  have  told  me  where  that  man  is." 

"I  tell  you  I  don't  know  where  that  man  is,  and 
that's  the  truth." 

"You  are  quite  sure  ?"  questioned  Kate. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  going,  too." 

"Of  course,  you  are,  my  dear.  There's  no  doubt 
of  that,  and  very  glad  I  shall  be  to  get  rid  of  you, 
too,  so  pay  up  just  as  soon  as  you  like." 

"Pay  up?"  echoed  Sylvia  in  amazement. 

"Yes,"  said  Kate  briefly.  "Pay  up,  that's  what  I 
said.  Now,  there  is  the  door,  and  it's  open  to  you 
the  moment  that  you  pay  me  what  you  owe  me." 

"I  don't  owe  you  a  penny." 


THE    LURE  235 


"Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  repeated  Kate  in  a  slightly 
threatening  tone. 

"How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing  as  that.  It's  a 
lie  and  you  know  it  is.  I  owe  you  nothing." 

"Seventy-five  dollars  for  that  evening  dress, 
please." 

"I  didn't  buy  that  dress!"  cried  Sylvia.  "You 
forced  it  on  me.  There  it  is  in  the  other  room." 

"Do  you  think  I  give  fine  dresses  away." 

"The  dress  is  in  there,"  repeated  Sylvia,  pointing 
to  Number  two.  "I  never  bought  it  from  you.  You 
forced  it  on  me.  You  made  your  woman  put  me 
into  it  against  my  will." 

"It's  second-hand  now,"  pursued  Kate  in  a  still 
more  dominant  tone.  "I  have  no  use  for  second- 
hand clothes  in  my  establishment." 

"I  don't  want  it,"  cried  Sylvia.    "I  won't  take  it." 

"Take  it  or  leave  it — I  don't  care ;  but  pay  for  it 
you  have  got  to  before  you  leave  this  room." 

"I  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  cried  Sylvia 
fearlessly  lifting  her  head  and  looking  her  persecu- 
tor full  in  the  eyes. 


236  THE   LURE 


"Seventy-five  dollars.  That's  what  you  owe  me, 
and  that's  what  you  have  got  to  pay,"  reiterated 
Kate. 

"It's  preposterous,"  declared  the  girl.  "I  wouldn't 
pay  you  if  I  had  a  thousand  dollars,  and  I  haven't 
got  it,  as  you  know.  In  fact,  you  have  taken  my 
purse  away,  so  you  know  perfectly  well  that  all  I 
had  in  it  was  five  cents." 

"Pay  me  and  go,"  demanded  Kate. 

"I  can't  pay  you,  you  know  that." 

"Then  you  had  better  stop  here  with  me  and 
earn  it,  my  dear,  before  you  think  any  more  of  go- 
ing home  to  mother." 

They  stood  there,  face  to  face,  measuring 
glances;  but  for  all  the  woman's  threats  and  domi- 
nance Sylvia  refused  to  flinch. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,"  continued  Kate.  "If 
you  don't  pay  me  that  money  and  you  refuse  to 
earn  it,  I  will  send  for  a  policeman." 

"Here,  Paul,  suppose  you  try  your  hand  at  her." 

Paul  dropped  the  telephone  and  crossed  the  room. 

"Any  trouble,  Kate?" 


THE    LURE  237 


"There  may  be,"  replied  Kate  menacingly,  still 
keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  Sylvia's  face. 

"What's  all  this  fuss  about,  anyway?"  exclaimed 
Paul  with  a  leering  smile.  "Why  don't  you  two 
girls  get  together  and  kiss  and  make  up?" 

"I  am  perfectly  willing  to  forgive  Sylvia,"  said 
Kate  in  a  slightly  aggrieved  tone.  "I  am  only  try- 
ing to  do  the  right  thing  by  her  and  to  get  my 
money  back." 

"If  you  can't  get  it  for  me,  Paul,  the  police  can, 
so  never  mind." 

"Say,  don't  you  know  it's  a  very  foolish  thing  for 
a  new  girl  to  get  on  the  warpath  immediately  ?  Tell 
me  what  is  the  trouble  here.  I  was  so  busy  at  that 
phone  there  I  didn't  get  onto  your  argument." 

"She  owes  me  seventy-five  dollars,"  said  Kate, 
"and  she  won't  pay  me." 

"I  do  not  owe  you  anything,"  said  Sylvia. 

"And  she  wants  to  go  to  another  house  without 
paying.  She  expects  me  to  let  her  do  a  thing  like 
that,"  continued  Kate. 


238  THE    LURE 


"Oh,  that's  not  true,"  cried  Sylvia  excitedly.  "I 
am  going  home." 

Paul  reached  out  and  caught  her  by  the  wrist. 

He  twisted  it  until  the  girl  shrieked  out  in  pain. 
"Back  to  home  and  mother,  eh?"  he  sneered. 

"Yes,"  persisted  Sylvia,  forcing  the  tears  back. 
"Yes!" 

"Then  why  didn't  you  stay  there  to  begin  with?" 
shouted  Paul,  dropping  her  wrist,  but  assuming  a 
more  formidable  attitude,  as  though  he  were  about 
to  strike  her  in  the  face.  "If  you  are  so  fond  of 
your  mother  and  home,  why  the  devil  didn't  you 
stay  there?" 

"You  know  why,"  answered  Sylvia.  "If  you 
don't,  then  ask  Mrs.  Lockwood.  I  told  her  every- 
thing. She  knows  I  had  to  look  for  work." 

"But  remember,"  went  on  Paul,  still  leeringly, 
"you  are  not  going  anywhere  until  you  come  across 
with  that  coin." 

"I  tell  you  I  don't  owe  her  anything." 

"Yes,"  said  Paul ;  "that  is  what  you  all  say  when 
you  get  ready  to  jump." 


THE   LURE  239 


"This  saying  I  owe  her  money  is  just  a  part  of 
this  woman's  scheme  to  try  and  make  me  go  with 
her  when  she  knows  that  I  won't  go  and  that  I  want 
to  go  home." 

Kate  was  now  lined  up  beside  Paul  between  Syl- 
via and  the  office  door. 

"You  came  here  voluntarily,  didn't  you?"  cried 
Kate  in  an  injured  tone.  "Nobody  made  you  come 
here  to  me  with  your  bunk  sympathy  tale.  You 
thought  you  could  slip  away  from  home  and  get  a 
few  doll  clothes  and  then  slip  back  again  and  get 
away  with  it.  You  thought  nobody  would  ever 
know.  But  things  don't  come  as  easy  as  all  that  in 
this  world.  Your  foot  always  slips.  Now  I  know 
who  you  are  and  where  you  live  and  all  about  you. 
You  are  Sylvia  Jones  of  sixty-four  Brook  Street." 

At  mention  of  her  name  and  address  Sylvia  took 
a  little  step  backward  and  gave  vent  to  an  agonized 
cry. 

"And  if  you  try  to  start  anything  here,"  broke 
in  Paul,  shaking  his  fist  in  her  face,  "I  will  tell  the 


240  THE    LURE 


people  at  the  store  what  you  are  and  all  about  you, 
and  they  will  fire  you." 

"Yes,"  cried  Kate,  "and  when  your  mother  knows 
the  truth  she  will  slam  the  door  in  your  face." 

"After  that,"  pursued  Paul  mercilessly,  "there 
will  be  nothing  for  you  but  to  walk  the  streets." 

"Or  come  back  to  us,"  suggested  Kate,  with  a 
virtuous  nod  of  her  head.  "That  is  to  say,  if  we 
would  be  good-hearted  enough  to  take  you." 

Paul  unclinched  his  fist.  He  ceased  to  leer  at 
her.  His  voice  took  on  a  friendly  tone.  "Come 
along  now,  girlie,  have  a  little  sense,"  he  exclaimed. 
"You  will  find  in  the  long  run,  if  you  will  only  do 
the  right  thing,  Kate  and  I  are  the  best  friends  you 
have  got  in  the  world." 

Kate  leaned  toward  her  persuasively. 

"Listen,  Sylvia,"  she  said.  "Paul  is  telling  you 
the  truth.  Don't  you  think  the  best  and  wisest 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  go  back  into  that  room 
there,  change  your  dress  and  come  on  down  with 
me?" 

"No,  no,  I  won't !"  cried  the  girl.    "I  won't !" 


THE    LURE  241 


"It  might  save  you  a  lot  of  trouble,"  persisted 
Kate. 

"Yes;  and  a  couple  of  black  eyes!"  cried  Paul, 
doubling  his  fists  again. 

Again  Sylvia  threw  her  head  back  and  faced  them 
fearlessly.  "Yes,  and  maybe  my  life,"  she  cried 
meaningly. 

Paul  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sneered  again. 

"That's  up  to  you,  kid.  If  you  won't  let  my  wife 
be  a  friend  to  you  you  will  have  to  take  your 
chances.  None  of  this  modest  stuff  goes  with  us." 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  you  are  going  to  keep  me 
here  by  force,"  cried  Sylvia. 

"Yes,  until  you  pay  me  what  you  owe  me,"  re- 
peated Kate. 

Again  Paul  dropped  his  mask. 

"Ah,  no  more  of  this  finesse  stuff,"  he  shouted. 
"Look  here,  you.  Now  listen  to  me.  You  are  going 
to  stay  with  us  whether  you  want  to  or  not.  You 
are  going  to  do  what  we  say,  whether  you  want  to 
or  not.  You  are  going  to  belong  to  us,  and  the 
money  you  earn  is  coming  to  us,  every  penny  of  itr 


THE    LURE 


and  don't  you  try  to  hold  out  on  us.  Now,  do  you 
hear  me?  Do  you  understand  that ?" 

Paul  backed  away  from  the  girl  for  several  feet 
and  stood  watching  the  effect  of  his  words  upon  her. 

Sylvia  shuddered  and  lifted  one  hand  up  as 
though  to  ward  off  a  cutting  blow. 

"You  mean  you  are  going  to  make  me  a  'white 
slave'  ?"  she  cried  piteously. 

"Yes,  that's  it !"  cried  Paul,  pointing  his  finger  at 
her..  "A  'white  slave.'  You  are  going  to  forget 
that  you  ever  had  a  name  or  a  home  or  a  mother. 
I  am  going  to  give  you  a  number  instead.  You  are 
number  eight  for  life — do  you  hear? — number 
eight.  Now,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  that?" 

Like  a  hunted  creature  driven  to  bay,  Sylvia 
turned  and  faced  them  once  more. 

"I  am  going  to  fight,  I  am  going  to  fight,  I  am 
going  to  fight !"  cried  Sylvia. 

"Huh !"  Paul  gave  a  sarcastic  sneer  and  whipped 
his  coat  off.  "Oh,  you  are,  eh?  Very  well,  then, 
we  will  have  the  fight  right  now !" 

"Put  your  back  against  that  door,  Kate." 


THE    LURE  243 


On  the  edge  of  the  desk  close  beside  the  telephone 
receiver  stood  a  half-empty  carafe. 

As  she  spoke  the  words  of  challenge  to  Paul  to  do 
his  worst,  Sylvia,  with  a  bound,  seized  the  carafe 
and  smashed  it  down  upon  the  desk  with  all  her 
might. 

The  neck  of  the  bottle,  with  its  jagged  edge,  made 
an  effective  weapon.  Sylvia  grasped  it  eagerly  and 
held  it  defiantly  above  her  head. 

"Look  out,  Kate,  she'll  stab  you !"  cried  Paul,  and 
Kate,  obeying  him  instantly,  made  a  hasty  retreat 
across  the  room  out  of  range  of  the  infuriated  girl. 

"Lock  that  door!"  cried  Paul.  "Then  we  have 
got  her." 

As  Kate,  too  frightened  to  move,  stood  motion- 
less, Paul,  with  the  speed  of  a  tiger  cat,  darted  to- 
ward the  office  door,  but  before  he  could  lay  his 
hand  upon  the  handle  there  was  a  piercing  shriek  in 
the  corridor,  and  the  door  flew  open  and  Nell  Jor- 
dan, the  young  girl  in  number  three,  with  blackened 
eyes  and  streaming  hair  came  shrieking  into  the 
room. 


244  THE    LURE 


Instinctively  she  ran  to  Sylvia  and,  throwing  her- 
self on  the  floor,  threw  her  arms  about  the  girl  for 
protection. 

"Oh,  save  me !  Save  me !  For  God's  sake,  take  me 
away!"  she  cried.  "That  black  woman  is  going  to 
beat  me!" 

"She  got  away,  Miss  Kate!"  gasped  Carrie,  who 
at  that  instant  came  panting  into  the  room. 

"Take  me  away!  Take  me  away!"  gasped  Nell. 

Sylvia  stood  motionless,  the  jagged  piece  of  the 
carafe  still  in  her  hand. 

"Take  the  little  one,  Carrie,  quick  there!  Leave 
this  other  she  devil  to  me,  I'll  fix  her  once  and  for 
all!"  cried  Paul,  and  he  made  a  bound  toward 
Sylvia. 

But  before  he  could  reach  her  MacAuley  rushed 
into  the  room  and  catching  Paul  full  in  the  jaw  sent 
him  reeling  across  the  room. 

Before  he  could  stagger  to  his  feet  again  Mac- 
Auley had  him  covered  with  his  pistol. 

Kate  and  Carrie,  speechless  with  fright,  withdrew 
panting  into  the  far  corner  of  the  room. 


THE    LURE  245 

"Come  here,  girls,"  cried  Bob  commandingly,  as 
he  kept  the  pistol  pointed  toward  Paul.  "You  want 
to  get  out  of  here,  both  of  you,  don't  you?  Well, 
Mrs.  Lockwood,  what  have  you  to  say  about  it  ?  I 
am  going  to  take  these  girls  home.  Have  you  any 
objection?  Then  come  along." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Before  either  Sylvia  or  Nell  had  a  chance  to  real- 
ize fully  what  had  happened  MacAuley  had  hailed  a 
taxicab,  bundled  them  both  into  it  and,  after  a  few 
hurried  instructions  to  the  driver,  they  were  on  their 
way  downtown. 

"Stop  at  the  first  rotisserie  you  come  to,"  was  the 
order  Bob  had  given  as  he  jumped  into  the  taxicab. 

"What's  a  rotisserie?"  exclaimed  Nell,  a  little  ap- 
prehensively. She  was  still  clinging  to  Sylvia  as 
her  sole  protector,  and  as  she  put  the  question  she 
looked  at  Bob  almost  suspiciously. 

MacAuley  burst  out  laughing.  "Don't  be  fright- 
ened, my  girl,"  he  exclaimed,  smiling  at  Sylvia.  "A 
rotisserie's  all  right.  It's  a  place  where  you  get 
things  hot  off  the  griddle,  and  that's  what  both  of 
you  need  at  this  moment  more  than  anything  else 

in  the  world.     I'm  just  going  to  have  them  wrap 

246 


THE    LURE  247 

us  up  a  couple  of  chickens  and  a  few  other  things, 
and  if  Miss  Jones  will  only  act  as  hostess  we'll  be 
having  a  little  picnic  down  at  her  mother's  apart- 
ments in  less  than  half  an  hour." 

While  MacAuley  was  in  the  rotisserie  making  his 
purchases  the  girl  who  was  still  shaking  like  an 
aspen  leaf  turned  to  Sylvia  again. 

"Is  that  your  name,  Miss  Jones  ?"  she  asked. 
"My  name  is  Sylvia— Sylvia  Jones;  and  you 
mustn't  worry  another  minute!"  exclaimed  Sylvia. 
"You're  coming  home  with  me.  Everything  is  go- 
ing to  be  all  right  now.  Mother  and  I  are  going  to 
take  care  of  you  until  Mr.  MacAuley  has  made  all 
the  arrangements  for  sending  you  home." 

"Oh,  but  how  can  I  go  back  home  after  all  this?" 
cried  the  girl.  "It's  true  I  only  left  there  very  early 
this  morning,  but  my  aunt's  such  a  stern  old  woman. 
She  thinks,  of  course,  I've  gone  to  Albany  to  see  a 
cousin  of  mine  there,  but  if  she  ever  learned  the 

truth " 

"But  she  never  will  learn  it!"  exclaimed  Sylvia 
confidently.  "It's  all  been  a  terrible,  awful  mistake, 


248  THE    LURE 


but  there's  no  reason  for  you  to  worry.  Believe  me, 
there  isn't.  Mr.  MacAuley  is  going  to  see  you 
through  the  whole  affair." 

"You  trust  this  Mr.  MacAuley,  don't  you?" 
queried  the  girl. 

"Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Sylvia.  "Why  shouldn't 
I?  I  have  known  him  a  long  time." 

"And  he's  been  at  your  house?!'  pursued  the  girl. 
"He  knows  your  mother?" 

Sylvia  nodded  her  head  and  smiled  at  the  recol- 
lection. 

"Yes,  he's  been  at  my  house.  He  knows  my 
mother,  and  my  mother's  very  fond  of  him.  Why, 
only  to-night  she  was  saying  to  me  that  she  liked 
Mr.  MacAuley  better  than  any  friend  that  I  ever 
had,  and  he  has  proved  a  friend,"  continued  Sylvia 
fervently,  "a  splendid,  brave,  true  friend." 

"But  I  don't  quite  understand,"  continued  the 
other  girl.  "Did  you  two  meet  there  just  by  acci- 
dent to-night  ?" 

"Yes,  by  accident,"  answered  Sylvia;  "and  yet  it 
can't  have  been  by  accident,  either,"  she  continued, 


THE    LURE  249 


tears  welling  up  into  her  eyes.  "God  sent  him  there 
to  rescue  both  me  and  you." 

The  girl  looked  her  astonishment.  "Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  they  were  trying  to  hold  you  there  just 
as  they  were  me?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Sylvia;  "but  don't  let's  talk 
about  it  now.  Later  on  to-night  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it,  but  just  for  the  present  you  must  trust  me 
and  him  absolutely.  Mr.  MacAuley's  going  to  settle 
everything." 

Presently,  when  MacAuley  returned  laden  with 
bundles,  he  exclaimed:  "There's  just  one  thing  I 
want  to  say  to  both  of  you  before  we  reach  home. 
Your  mother  mustn't  know  anything  about  what's 
happened  to-night.  There's  no  reason  why  she 
should.  So,  when  we  get  to  your  house,  I'm  going 
to  take  this  little  girl — by  the  way,  I  don't  even 
know  your  name,  do  I?" 

"It's  Nell — Nell  Jordan,"  answered  the  girl  as 
she  drew  Bob's  raincoat  more  tightly  around  her 
and  began  to  cry  softly  again. 

"Very  well,  then,  Nell,"  continued  MacAuley,  "as 


250  THE    LURE 


I  was  saying,  when  we  reach  Miss  Sylvia's  home 
I'm  going  to  take  you  into  the  rooms  of  the  doctor 
— a  friend  of  mine  who  lives  in  the  rooms  under- 
neath Miss  Sylvia's.  He'll  fix  up  that  bruise  on 
your  face  in  no  time — and,  besides" — MacAuley 
spoke  a  little  more  seriously — "we  are  not  entirely 
out  of  the  woods  yet  in  this  case — at  least,  you  are, 
but  I'm  not,"  he  caught  himself  as  both  girls  looked 
at  him  in  a  rather  frightened  way. 

"You  see,  I've  still  got  to  find  that  little  Spring- 
field girl." 

"You  mean  a  girl  from  Springfield  whom  they 
had  hidden  in  that  place  where  they  took  me  this 
morning?  Why,  she  is  dead!"  exclaimed  Nell. 
"Didn't  you  know?" 

"Dead?"  cried  MacAuley.  "How  do  you  know 
that?  What  makes  you  think  so?  Good  God!  If 
that's  the  case,  some  one  will  go  to  the  chair  for 
this." 

"All  that  I  -know  is  what  I  heard  that  awful  col- 
ored woman  say  to  Fred." 

"To  Fred  ?    Who's  Fred  ?"  questioned  Bob. 


THE    LURE  251 


Nell  began  to  sob  again.  "The  man  who  was  go- 
ing to  marry  me." 

"Oh,"  interrupted  Bob,  "you  mean  Paul  Lefarge? 
Well,  what  did  she  say  to  him?" 

"I  heard  them  whispering  outside  my  door.  She 
said  to  him,  'That  fool  you  brought  in  last  week 
from  Springfield  has  killed  herself.'  Then  Fred — 
or  Paul,  as  you  call  him — swore  fearfully  and  flung 
the  door  open.  You  see,  I  still  trusted  him  implicitly, 
and  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  from  the 
day  he  left  Auburn.  Instead  of  being  glad  to  see 
me,  he  cursed  me  and  struck  me  in  the  face.  I  don't 
remember  much  after  that,  except  that  I  heard  him 
say,  'This  is  no  place  for  her  now.  I'm  going  to 
take  her  up  to  the  agency  till  this  thing  blows  over.' 
That's  all  I  know." 

They  were  at  the  Brook  Street  tenement  now,  and 
MacAuley  hurried  them  up  the  stairs.  The  door  of 
the  doctor's  apartment  stood  ajar.  Bob  hustled  both 
the  girls  in  without  ceremony.  No  one  was  there. 

"He  must  be  upstairs  with  your  mother,  Miss 
Sylvia.  I've  only  got  a  moment  to  spare.  I'll  wait 


252  THE    LURE 


with  Miss  Nell  here  if  you'll  go  upstairs  and  send 
him  down." 

Sylvia,  only  too  eager  to  reach  the  side  of  her  be- 
loved "Momsey,"  once  again  flew  up  the  stairs. 

A  moment  later  the  doctor's  footsteps  could  be 
heard  hurrying  down  the  stairs. 

"Here  I  am  again,  doctor !"  exclaimed  Bob,  shak- 
ing hands.  "Always  turning  up  like  a  bad  penny, 
you  see.  But  this  time  I've  a  new  mission.  I've 
brought  you  a  patient.  This  is  a  friend  of  mine, 
Miss  Nellie  Jordan.  She's  had  an  accident.  She 
got  a  bad  bruise  under  the  eye."  He  walked  to  the 
table  and  began  to  open  some  of  the  bundles. 
"We're  all  so  happy  we  were  wondering  if  you 
wouldn't  let  us  have  a  little  sort  of  picnic  supper 
down  here,  and,  by  the  way,  doctor — while  I  was 
buying  the  supper  I  persuaded  the  chef  at  the  rotis- 
serie  to  throw  in  this  little  bit  of  raw  beef.  It  will 
do  marvels  for  Miss  Nell's  bruised  eye." 

"The  best  thing  in  the  world,"  laughed  the  doc- 
tor. "Come  here,  my  dear.  I'm  very  pleased  to 


THE    LURE 


meet  you,  and  still  gladder  to  be  of  any  service  to 
you." 

"Just  a  moment,  doctor,  I've  got  to  run.  Now 
cheer  up,  Miss  Nell.  Everything's  going  to  be  all 
right — don't  forget  that!" 

Closing  the  door  half  to  behind  him  MacAuley 
said  to  the  doctor.  "Things  are  worse  than  I  sup- 
posed with  that  poor  little  Springfield  girl,  doctor. 
I've  got  to  call  up  the  office  and  have  some  more  men 
put  on  the  case.  I'm  going  to  send  two  or  three 
down  here,  doctor.  Put  them  out  on  the  fire  escape 
when  they  come.  I've  rather  got  a  sort  of  suspicion 
some  of  these  White  Slavers  may  still  try  to  get 
your  patient  in  there  back  in  their  power  again." 

"I'd  like  to  see  dose  devils  try  to  get  her  away 
from  me  in  here,"  cried  the  doctor  valiantly. 

"Tell  me  about  her.    She's  a  nice  little  girl." 

"Not  now,"  said  Bob.  "I  haven't  the  time.  But 
later  on.  I  must  get  those  extra  men  of  mine  here 
as  quickly  as  possible,  for  they're  almost  certain  to 
track  her  here.  You  see,  with  this  little  girl's  evi- 
dence we  can  send  them  all  up  the  river.  They  real- 


254  THE    LURE 


ize  that.  They  know  it  as  well  as  we  do,  and  nat- 
urally they're  going  to  move  heaven  and  earth  to 
get  her  back  if  they  can.  They  won't  get  her,  of 
course,  but,  in  the  meantime,  doctor,  I  leave  her  in 
your  charge.  I  know  that  you'll  do  everything  to 
make  her  comfortable,  and,  by  the  way,  here's  an- 
other thing,  doctor,"  and  MacAuley  pressed  two 
ten-dollar  bills  into  his  hand.  "Those  medicines  and 
things  for  Mrs.  Jones.  I  want  you  to  get  them 
to-night  or  at  the  latest  the  very  first  thing  in  the 
morning." 

"You're  a  fine  man — a  fine  man!"  cried  the  doc- 
tor, pocketing  the  bills  delightedly.  MacAuley  gave 
him  a  hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder  and  with  a  laugh 
started  downstairs. 

"Never  mind  how  fine  a  man  I  am,  you  look  out 
for  the  little  girl,  doctor.  That's  the  main  point  just 
now." 

The  doctor  turned  and  entered  the  room,  closing 
the  door  softly  behind  him.  Nell,  with  her  head 
resting  upon  the  table,  was  sobbing  her  heart  out. 

The  doctor  started  at  once  to  examine  her  bruise. 


THE    LURE  255 


"It  will  be  almost  gone  by  to-morrow  morning,  my 
dear.  Don't  cry,  now.  Cheer  up !" 

"But  what's  my  mother  going  to  say  when  she 
hears  about  all  this  ?  She's  way  out  west,  you  know. 
She  married  again,  and  her  husband  didn't  like  me. 
That's  why  I've  been  living  with  this  old  aunt  of 
mine.  If  it  hadn't  been  that  I  was  so  lonely  for 
mother  all  this  trouble  would  never  have  happened 
to  me,  and  now  what's  she  going  to  say,  doctor, 
when  she  hears?" 

"What  every  mother  says,  my  dear,"  said  the  doc- 
tor reassuringly.  "She  is  still  my  baby." 

"My  aunt  won't  let  me  go  back  home  now." 

"Oh,  yes,  she  will !"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "Take 
it  from  me,  my  dear,  somedimes  ven  the  troble 
comes  it's  the  sternest  old  vomen  who  haf  got  the 
softest  hearts." 

"I  never  meant  to  do  any  wrong,"  said  Nell. 

"Of  course  you  didn't.  What  did  you  do,  my 
dear?" 

"You  see,  I  was  so  lonesome,"  said  Nell,  "after 
mother  went.  I  never  had  anything  to  amuse  me, 


256  THE    LURE 


I  never  went  anywhere,  and  then,  at  a  church  so- 
ciable, I  met  this  young  fellow  from  New  York.  I 
had  never  loved  anybody  before — and — I  trusted 
him." 

"Oh,"  said  the  doctor,  comprehendingly.  "So  you 
ran  away  from  home  with  a  man  ?" 

"Well,  not  exactly  that.  You  see,  we  were  to 
have  eloped,  but  before  I  could  get  away  he  was 
called  back  here  on  business,  so  he  wrote  to  me  to 
meet  him  here  and  we'd  get  married  at  once." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  and  the  doctor  nodded  his  head. 
"One  of  them  counterfeit  lovers,  huh?  Cupid  may 
wear  an  angel's  vings,  but  sometimes  he  works  for 
the  devil  just  the  same.  There,  there,  don't  think 
about  it  any  more." 

"But  I  never  can  think  of  anything  else,"  cried 
Nell.  "How  can  I  ?  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  still 
love  him.  1  can't  get  him  out  of  my  head.  I  can't 
bring  myself  to  believe  in  spite  of  his  cruelty  this 
morning  that  he's  half  as  great  a  villain  as  they're 
making  him  out." 

"He's  a  villain  all  right.    You  ought  to  thank  God 


THE    LURE  257 


you've  got  rid  of  him  so  easy.  Doesn't  the  warm 
water  make  your  face  feel  better?  Now  come,  I'm 
going  to  give  you  something  to  eat." 

Two  minutes  later  Sylvia  came  down  from  her 
mother's  room. 

"She's  fast  asleep  now,  dear  momsey,"  she  said 
to  the  doctor.  "The  sight  of  me  seemed  to  soothe 
her  so  much  she  dropped  right  off  to  sleep." 

"Sit  down  at  that  table  this  minute  now,  and  eat 
your  pretty  head  off.  Dat's  the  trouble  with  both 
you  little  girls.  You  don't  know  how  hungry  you 
iss.  You  been  so  excited  you  ain't  had  no  time  to 
think  about  it." 

Five  minutes  later  when  MacAuley  returned  with 
two  detectives  he  found  the  doctor,  Sylvia  and  Nell 
eating  ravenously. 

"I'm  just  going  to  put  these  friends  of  mine  on 
the  fire  escape,"  exclaimed  MacAuley.  "Just  in  case 
of  an  emergency,  you  know." 

Nell  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry.  "Why, 
what's  the  matter?  Are  they  coming  to  take  me 
back  ?  You  don't  think  that,  do  you  ?" 


258  THE    LURE 


"No,  they  won't  bother  you  any  more,  little  girl. 
Don't  you  worry,"  answered  Bob.  "Are  you  feeling 
.better?" 

""Yes,  ever  so  much,  thank  you.  Only  my  head 
aches  so." 

"Can't  you  give  her  something  to  cure  that,  doc- 
tor?" asked  Bob. 

"Yes;  I  have  a  powder  in  my  bag,  but  it's  up- 
stairs in  Mrs.  Jones'  room.  I'll  go  up  and  get  it." 

"I'm  just  going  round  the  corner  to  Callahan's," 
said  Bob,  "I'll  be  back  at  once." 

"Now,"  said  Sylvia,  "the  next  thing  I  must  get 
you  is  some  clothes.  You  can  have  my  dressing 
gown  and  a  pair  of  mother's  slippers.  I'll  go  and 
get  them  for  you  at  once.  I  won't  be  a  minute." 

Leaving  the  door  of  the  doctor's  room  ajar,  Syl- 
via followed  the  doctor  up  to  her  own  rooms. 

Nell  was  still  sitting  at  the  table,  her  back  toward 
the  door. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  opened  a  little  wider,  and 
Paul  Lefarge,  taking  a  hasty  survey  of  the  situa- 


THE    LURE  259 


tion,  tip-toed  into  the  room,  shutting  the  door  behind 
him  so  carefully  that  Nell  did  not  hear  the  sound. 

With  a  bound  he  sprang  toward  her,  and  before 
she  could  utter  more  than  a  startled  exclamation  his 
hand  was  over  her  mouth. 

"Don't  scream,  Nell !"  he  exclaimed  in  a  whisper. 
"I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you.  Listen,  Nell,  listen. 
Save  me,  for  God's  sake.  Listen  to  me.  You  know 
what  this  fellow's  going  to  do  with  you,  don't  you? 
He's  going  to  throw  you  into  jail  and  hold  you  as  a 
witness  against  me,  the  man  that  you've  told  me 
time  and  time  again  you  would  gladly  give  your  life 
for." 

Nell  struggled  feebly  to  release  herself,  but  Paul's 
gaze,  which  was  fixed  upon  her  eyes,  could  not  fail 
to  see  that  his  words  were  having  an  effect. 

"You've  misjudged  me,  Nell.  I'll  prove  it  to  you 
if  you'll  only  give  me  a  chance.  I'm  not  as  bad  as 
you  think  I  am.  Not  by  a  long  way.  God !  Can't 
you  see  I'm  taking  my  life  into  my  hands  this  very 
minute  to  come  here  and  get  you?  You  know  I 
want  to  do  the  right  thing  by  you.  Do  you  think 


260  THE    LURE 


I'd  be  here  if  I  didn't  ?  If  ever  a  man  made  a  sacri- 
fice of  himself  for  the  love  of  a  woman  I'm  do- 
ing it  now,  and  whether  you  come  along  with  me 
now  or  whether  you  stay  here  and  testify  against 
me,  remember  this,  little  Nell,  you're  the  one  love  of 
my  life.  There  has  never  been  any  one  like  you, 
and  there  never  will  be.  Who  knows,  if  you'll  only 
come  away  with  me  now  and  stick  by  me  and  keep 
your  mouth  shut,  why  there's  a  chance,  Nell,  that 
you  can  redeem  me?  Oh,  I  know  that  you  think 
I'm  all  bad,  but  I'm  not!  I'm  not!  I  never  had  a 
chance  when  I  was  a  kid,  and  then  this  Lockwood 
woman  and  others  like  her  got  hold  of  me.  It 
wasn't  my  fault  they  got  me  into  their  power,  and 
she  and  Wilson  have  always  used  me  to  do  their 
dirty  work  if  they  could.  Why,  I  was  almost  as 
young  as  you  are,  Nell,  when  I  met  them  first,  and 
although  I  was  a  city-bred  boy,  I  didn't  know  very 
much  more  than  you  about  the  world.  Then  one 
night  they  accused  me  of  stealing  a  diamond  ring. 
That  big  stiff  Wilson  threatened  to  send  me  to  jail. 
He  held  that  over  my  head.  Then  things  went  from 


THE    LURE  261 


bad  to  worse,  until  five  or  six  weeks  ago,  when  I 
first  met  you.  I  never  knew  what  love  meant  until 
I  met  you,  Nell,  and  I  do  love  you  now.  Honest 
to  God,  I  do!  You're  the  only  girl  I'll  ever  make 
my  wife,  and  to-night  I  had  it  all  fixed.  I  didn't  tell 
you  up  there  in  the  agency  because  I  wanted  to  let 
you  have  a  good  rest  first,  but  I  had  the  plan  all 
mapped  out.  I  was  going  to  take  you  away  and 
marry  you  just  as  I  said  I  would  that  last  day  up 
in  Auburn." 

Watching  her  catlike  as  the  girl's  eyes  began  to 
fill  with  tears,  he  removed  his  hand  from  her  mouth 
and,  passing  his  arm  about  her,  half  knelt  on  the 
floor  beside  her. 

"See  how  I  trust  you.  I  know  you  won't  scream. 
I  know  you  won't  give  me  away.  You're  an  ace, 
Nell,  you're  a  queen." 

"Oh,  Fred,  Fred,"  sobbed  the  girl,  waveringly. 
"If  I  only  could  believe  you.  But  why  should  Mr. 
MacAuley  lie  to  me,  and  then  remember  this  morn- 
ing— that  time  you  struck  me?" 

"That  was  an  accident,"  he  explained  hastily.    "I 


262  THE    LURE 


was  nervous,  all  upset,  and  I'd  been  drinking,  too. 
I'd  just  heard  some  bad  news.  I  didn't  know  what 
I  was  doing." 

"Yes;  but  how  do  I  know  that  you  won't  do  it 
again  ?" 

"Never !  Never !  So  help  me  God !  Nell,  I'll  never 
put  my  hand  on  you  again  except  in  the  way  of 
love." 

"And  then  your  name — you  didn't  even  tell  me 
the  truth  about  that.  Mr.  MacAuley  says  your 
name  is  Paul  Lefarge,  and  you  introduced  yourself 
to  me  as  Fred  Manly." 

Paul  turned  to  her  with  all  the  blandness  of  a 
child.  "I  know  I  did,  but  do  you  know  why  I  did 
that,  Nell?  Lefarge  is  the  name  I  work  under. 
Fred  Manly's  my  own  name.  I  wanted  to  keep  it 
clean  and  decent  for  the  woman  who  was  to  be  my 
wife.  I  couldn't  lie  to  you  about  my  name,  because 
I  wanted  you  to  bear  it  sooner  or  later.  So  you 
keep  right  on  calling  me  Fred,  little  girl,  no  matter 
what  anybody  says,  and  I'll  stick  to  you  and  protect 


THE    LURE  263 

you  and  love  you.     I  love  you  as  no  little  girl  was 
ever  loved  before." 

"But  I'm  afraid,  Fred— I'm  afraid!"  wailed  the 
girl.  "Something  tells  me  not  to  go  with  you.  I 
mustn't !" 

"But  you  must,  dear,"  he  whispered  gently  and 
persuasively.  "If  you  don't  come  away  with  me  to- 
night I  shall  go  straight  to  the  devil.  By  God !  I'll 
do  worse  than  that" — his  voice  sank  and  took  on  a 
more  desperate  tone— "I'll  kill  myself !  If  you  turn 
me  down  now  I'll  go  right  out  of  this  room  and 
shoot  myself.  That's  what  I'll  do.  I'll  shoot  my- 
self here  before  your  very  eyes.  I've  got  the  goods 
to  do  it  with,  too."  As  he  spoke  he  put  his  hand  into 
his  hip  pocket.  "There  it  is,"  he  said,  as  he  held  a 
small  pistol  toward  her.  "How  would  you  like  to 
have  my  blood  on  your  soul,  Nell — the  blood  of  the 
man  you  loved  ?" 

Nell  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  shud- 
dered. "Put  it  away,  Fred ;  put  it  away  quick !  I 
can't  bear  to  look  at  it !"  she  cried. 

"But  you'll  have  to  look  at  me — afterward,  if 


264  THE    LURE 


you  don't  come  with  me  now,  Nell,"  he  went  on 
grimly.  "That  would  be  a  worse  sight  for  you, 
wouldn't  it?  You  would  never  get  it  out  of  your 
memory,  and  you  will  never  forgive  yourself  for 
having  driven  me  to  it — you — the  one  woman  in  the 
world  who  has  a  chance  to  redeem  and  make  a  man 
of  me.  I  shall  haunt  you  always.  You'll  never 
have  a  happy  moment,  because  your  heart  and  soul 
will  tell  you  always  that  you're  the  woman  that 
sent  the  one  man  who  loved  you  honestly  to  hell !" 

"Don't!  Don't!"  cried  the  girl.  "You're  driving 
me  mad !" 

"But  what  about  me?  Don't  you  think  you're 
driving  me  mad,  too?"  he  continued  with  a  fine 
imitation  of  a  quiver  in  his  voice.  "Don't  you  think 
I've  got  a  heart.  Now  listen,  Nell,"  he  went  on  in 
a  coaxing  tone,  "can't  you  see  the  position  I'm  in. 
Wilson,  the  big  bully  politician,  and  that  Lockwood 
woman,  are  trying  to  make  me  their  scapegoat.  If 
any  of  us  get  into  trouble  to-night  with  the  police 
they  are  going  to  put  the  blame  of  everything  on  me. 
So  you  see,  I've  got  to  get  away  right  away,  Nell. 


THE    LURE     265 

I   can't  wait  another  minute — not  even   for  you. 
Now  listen,  kid.    Here's  our  plan :  I've  taken  all  my 
money  out  of  the  savings  bank.     I've  got  it  right 
here  with  me.    You  come  along  with  me  right  off, 
just  as  you  are  and  help  me.     You  give  me  my 
chance  to  make  a  man  of  myself,  and  I'll  pay  you 
back  nobly,  Nell.     I'll  make  you  the  happiest  and 
the  proudest  woman  in  the  world.    Oh,  what's  the 
use,  Nell?"  he  exclaimed  coaxingly  and  smiling  for 
the  first  time.    "You  know  you're  just  as  crazy  about 
me  as  you  ever  were.    Come  on,  Kid !' 

But  to  his  disgust,  just  as  he  thought  the  game 
was  won,  the  girl  suddenly  drew  away  from  him. 
"Oh,  I'm  afraid— afraid !"  she  cried. 
"I'll  never  be  cruel  to  you  again,  Nell.    Remem- 
ber that  I've  promised." 

"Yes;  but  you  promised  before,"  said  the  girl, 

"and  you  didn't  keep  your  promise  that's 

"I  will  now,"  interrupted  Paul.  "But  I  will  keep 
it  now,  and  just  to  prove  it  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do 
if  you'll  come  right  away  with  me  now." 


266  THE    LURE 


"What  will  you  do?"  Nell  raised  her  face  to  his 
with  an  eager  look. 

"I'll  marry  you,  little  girl,"  he  said  impressively. 
"That's  what  I'll  do.  I'll  marry  you  this  very 
night." 

"Do  you  mean  it  ?" 

"I  certainly  do — come  along!" 

With  his  arm  still  about  her  he  raised  her  gently 
from  the  chair  and  started  toward  the  door. 

But  once  again  the  girl  wavered.  "If  I  only 
dared,"  she  said.  "If  I  only  could  believe  you." 

"Just  give  me  this  one  chance,  kid — this  one 
chance  to  prove  how  much  I  really  love  you.  It'll 
be  easy  enough  to  find  a  justice  of  the  peace.  Why, 
you  can  be  Mrs.  Fred  Manly  in  half  an  hour." 

"Then  you  really  will  marry  me  ?" 

"Why,  kid,  I've  got  the  license  right  here  in  my 
pocket.  There's  a  taxi  waiting  for  us  down  at  the 
door.  We  can  drive  right  to  the  justice  of  the 
peace." 

"I'd  rather  be  married  by  a  clergyman,"  said  the 
girl.  "You  see,  all  my  people  are  all  old-fashioned 


THE    LURE  267 


folks.  None  of  them  have  ever  been  married  in 
any  other  way." 

'Then  it's  right  to  the  preacher's  for  us,"  he  cried 
cheerily,  now  confident  that  he  had  bagged  his 
quarry. 

"You  see,  if  we  are  married  by  a  clergyman," 
said  Nell,  "I  can  go  home  without  feeling  the  least 
bit  ashamed." 

"Of  course,  you  can!"  he  exclaimed  quickly. 
"But  for  God's  sake,  hurry,  Nell!  Come  on,  we 
haven't  a  second  to  lose." 

"But  I  must  say  good-bye  to  Sylvia  first.  It 
wouldn't  be  fair  to " 

"Fair — nothing !"  turning  on  her  with  a  snarl,  for 
the  first  time  angry.  "Let's  get  married  first,  then," 
and  as  he  spoke  he  gave  a  sarcastic  smile,  "we  can 
come  back  and  get  their  congratulations." 

That  smile  proved  exceedingly  costly  to  Paul. 

Nell,  perceiving  it  and  catching  something  of  the 
sneer  which  lay  behind  it,  drew  away  from  him  in- 
stantly. 

"I  can't  go,"  she  said ;  "at  least,  not  yet.    I  must 


268  THE    LURE 


say  good-bye  to  Sylvia,  and,  besides,  I  have  no 
clothes.  You  wouldn't  have  me  marry  you  like  this 
— in  Mr.  MacAuley's  raincoat?" 

"What  do  clothes  matter  to  us,  Nell?"  he  urged 
her.  "And,  besides,  I  thought  of  that.  Your  dress 
and  coat  and  hat  and  things  are  all  down  in  the 
taxi.  You  see,  Nell,  I've  shown  much  greater  faith 
in  you  than  you  have  in  me.  When  I  hired  that  taxi 
to  come  down  here  I  put  the  clothes  in,  because,  I 
said  to  myself,  that  little  kid  is  the  one  real  friend 
I've  got  in  the  world.  She'll  never  go  back  on  me, 
she'll  never  give  me  the  go-by,  and  I  wasn't  a  bad 
prophet,  was  I?  For  here  we  are — right  on  the 
way  to  the  preacher's.  It's  all  turned  out  for  the 
best." 

He  stopped  suddenly.  His  jaw  fell.  Nell,  with  a 
little  start,  took  a  step  away  from  him.  The  eyes 
of  both  the  man  and  girl  were  fixed  on  the  same 
spot.  It  was  the  figure  of  Sylvia,  who  had  entered 
the  room  unheard  by  either  of  them  and  now  stood 
with  her  back  against  the  door. 

Before  she  had  a  chance  to  open  her  lips  or  ex- 


THE    LURE  269 


press  her  amazement  Paul's  quick  wit  had  risen  to 
the  new  occasion.  His  catlike  eyes  took  in  at  a 
glance  the  fact  that  Sylvia  was  trembling  with  fear. 
Paul  gave  a  sneering  little  laugh  and  exclaimed: 
"Hello,  there!" 

"What  are  you  doing  here  ?  What  do  you  want  ?" 
demanded  Sylvia  in  a  frightened  but  defiant  tone. 

"Just  one  thing,  and  I've  got  it.    I  want  my  wife." 

"Yes,  Miss  Sylvia,  that's  true.  I  was  just  wait- 
ing to  say  good-bye  to  you.  It's  all  right.  Fred's 
explained  everything,  and  he's  going  to  marry  me 
to-night." 

Sylvia,  apparently  paying  no  attention  to  Nell's 
announcement,  kept  her  big  honest  eyes  fixed  stead- 
fastly on  Lefarge's  face. 

"Your  wife?"  she  echoed.  "But  your  wife's  not 
here.  Your  wife,  Mrs.  Lockwood,  as  far  as  I  know, 
is  still  in  the  agency  uptown.  This  is  the  last  place 
in  the  world  for  you  to  look  for  her  after  what  hap- 
pened to-day." 

As  Sylvia  spoke,  Nell  gave  a  little  cry  and  slipped 
out  of  Lefarge's  protecting  arm.  Then,  for  the 


270  THE    LURE 


first  time,  Sylvia,  realizing  that  Nell  was  in  deadly 
earnest  in  her  intention,  turned  to  the  girl. 

"You  must  be  mad !"  she  cried,  "after  all  you've 
heard  about  him.  After  all  you  went  through  to- 
day. Why,  I  tell  you,  the  man's  already  married. 
I  know  that  for  a  fact ;  and,  anyway,  whether  he  is 
or  not,  you're  not  going  away  with  him  to-night.  I 
saved  you  once  to-day,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it  again." 

She  turned  on  Paul  with  flashing  eyes  and  flung 
the  door  open. 

"Get  out  of  here !"  she  cried.  "Quick!  And  don't 
you  touch  that  girl !" 

Catching  Nell  by  the  hand  and  pulling  her  to- 
ward the  door  hurriedly,  Paul  exclaimed  with  a  sin- 
ister smile:  "Ta!  ta!  number  eight.  Get  out  of  my 
way  there!  This  girl  is  going  with  me!" 

"No,  she's  not !"  cried  Sylvia  as  she  slammed  the 
door  to  and  put  her  back  against  it.  "You  can  go  if 
you  like — the  quicker  the  better — but  not  this  little 
girl.  She  stays  here,  you  understand !  She  doesn't 
leave  this  room  with  you,  except  over  my  dead 
body!" 


"GET  OUT  OF  MY  WAT  THERE!    THIS  GIRL  is  GOING  WITH  ME."  p.  270 


THE    LURE  271 


"Oh,  yes,  she  will!"  cried  Paul  confidently,  and 
his  hand  went  back  to  his  hip  pocket  in  a  threaten- 
ing way. 

"Oh,  you  can't  frighten  me,"  retorted  Sylvia, 
gaining  courage  every  second.  "I'm  not  afraid  of 
your  pistol.  You  wouldn't  dare  to  use  it.  Let  that 
little  girl  go !  Take  your  hands  off  her !  Get  out  of 
this  room  quickly.  I'm  giving  you  your  last  chance." 

"Threatening  business,  eh?"  sneered  Paul,  turn- 
ing on  her  furiously.  "Listen  here,  Number  Eight. 
Step  away  from  that  door.  If  you  don't,  I'll  beat 
your  face  in.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  you've 
got  to  let  my  girl  and  I  go  peacefully.  What  right 
have  you  got  to  stop  us  being  married?" 

"Every  right  on  earth!"  cried  Sylvia.  "Because 
I  know  you  for  the  vile  beast  that  you  are.  Because 
I  know  that  you're  already  a  married  man.  Nell," 
she  added,  turning  imploringly  to  the  girl,  "for 
God's  sake,  don't  do  it,  and  listen  to  me.  You  shan't 
go  with  him.  I  tell  you  you  shan't." 

"But,  Miss  Sylvia,"  expostulated  the  girl  nerv- 
ously, "you  don't  understand,  he's  going  to  marry 


272  THE    LURE 


me.  He  isn't  Mrs.  Lockwood's  husband — he's  go- 
ing to  marry  me." 

"Look  here,  I've  had  enough  of  this  argument!" 
cried  Lefarge,  raising  his  voice  in  an  angry  tone. 

"Don't  talk  so  loud !"  cried  Sylvia,  "my  mother's 
very  ill  upstairs.  I  wouldn't  have  her  hear  this  row 
for  anything  in  the  world." 

"I  don't  give  a  damn  about  your  mother!"  cried 
Paul.  "You  get  out  of  the  way.  Do  you  hear  me  ? 
If  you  don't,  I'll  beat  your  face  in !"  As  he  spoke  he 
struck  viciously  at  Sylvia,  but,  with  a  quick  move- 
ment, she  dodged  the  blow.  Then,  catching  hold  of 
her,  by  sheer  strength,  he  dragged  Sylvia's  hands  off 
the  door  handle.  As  the  door  swung  open  he 
clutched  Nell  round  the  waist  and  started  to  drag 
her  through  the  door,  but  in  an  instant  Sylvia  was 
at  him  again,  battling  with  the  strength  of  a  young 
fury. 

"What's  all  this  about?"  and  MacAuley  entered. 
"Seems  to  me  I'm  just  in  time." 

MacAuley's  voice  rang  out  clear  and  loud  from 
the  landing,  and  at  the  sound  of  it  Sylvia,  with  a 


THE    LURE  27S 


little  cry  of  thankfulness,  released  her  hold  upon 
the  struggling  girl. 

For  the  second  time  that  day  MacAuley  handed 
Paul  Lefarge  an  uppercut  which  sent  him  staggering 
halfway  across  the  room.  This  time,  however,  he 
rallied  more  quickly,  and  turning  on  Bob  made  a 
quick  dart  for  the  door.  But  a  clever  bit  of  jiu- 
jitsu  work  on  MacAuley 's  part  soon  completed  his 
capture.  Lefarge,  except  with  women,  had  never 
been  noted  as  a  successful  fighting  man.  As  he  was 
still  writhing  with  agony  in  the  detective's  viselike 
grip,  Bob  stared  down  into  his  face  with  a  sinister 
smile. 

"I  wondered  if  you'd  have  nerve  enough  to  try 
it !"  he  exclaimed.  "You  must  have  been  pretty  des- 
perate to  take  the  risk,  but  I  had  the  trap  all  set  for 
you,  though  frankly,  I  never  believed  you'd  be  fool 
enough  to  take  the  bait." 

"He's  trying  to  take  Nell  away  with  him,"  cried 
Sylvia.  "That's  what  he  came  for.  I  can't  make 
her  believe  that  he's  married  already." 

"You  won't  have  to,"  replied  Bob  grimly.    "The 


274  THE    LURE 


law  will  do  that,  Miss  Sylvia.  You  just  leave  him 
to  me." 

As  he  spoke  MacAuley  released  his  hold  on  Paul 
and  gave  him  a  shove  toward  the  door. 

"Out  on  the  sidewalk  for  you!"  he  cried.  "I'll 
see  you  out  there.  This  is  no  place  for  you  and  I 
want  to  finish  up  this  affair." 

But  to  MacAuley's  surprise,  instead  of  making  a 
hasty  exit,  Lefarge  stood  his  ground. 

"We'll  see  who  goes  to  the  sidewalk!"  he  cried. 
"You  damn  fool!  do  you  suppose  I'd  come  down 
here  single-handed?" 

Stepping  out  on  the  landing  Lefarge  gave  a  long, 
shrill  whistle,  and  immediately  there  was  the  sound 
of  footsteps  coming  up  the  stairs. 

MacAuley  was  the  first  to  recognize  the  figure 
who  appeared  the  next  moment  in  the  doorway. 

"Ah,  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wilson,  come  right  in!" 
cried  Bob  with  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm. 

At  sight  of  MacAuley  Wilson's  face  clouded  sud- 
denly. He  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise. 


THE    LURE  275 


"Ah,  the  gas-man!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  here, 
too?  Quite  a  pleasant  little  party." 

"Look  here,  Jim,"  cried  Paul,  once  more  stepping 
into  the  picture.  "This  kid  wants  to  go  home  with 
me.  This  fellow  is  trying  to  stop  her." 

"He  is,  is  he?"  exclaimed  Wilson,  with  a  surly 
chuckle. 

"Yes,"  cried  Paul.  "He's  holding  her  here  by 
force." 

"Then  we'll  have  to  see  about  that,"  continued 
Wilson  impressively.  "What's  your  game,  young 
man  ?"  he  added  sternly. 

"Why,  your  friend's  just  told  you,"  said  Bob. 
"I'm  trying  to  stop  her  from  going  with  him  among 
other  things." 

"Isn't  that  a  rather  risky  thing  for  you  to  do, 
young  man?  Is  this  girl  your  wife  or  your  sister?" 

"No,"  said  Bob. 

"Don't  you  realize  that  this  sort  of  business  may 
lead  you  to  the  station  house  ?" 

"I   have  no  objection   to  going  to   the   station 


276  THE    LURE 


house,"  said  Bob,  "provided  certain  persons  accom- 
pany me." 

"Threatening  business,  eh  ?  Do  you  realize,  young 
man,  that  this  is  the  second  time  to-day  I've  run 
across  you  butting  into  other  people's  premises?" 

"Yes,"  said  Paul,  with  a  mysterious  smile,  "it  has 
been  a  day  of  coincidences,  hasn't  it?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  exclaimed  Wilson. 

"I  was  merely  remarking  that  some  strange  fate 
seemed  to  be  making  us  run  into  each  other  fre- 
quently to-day." 

"Don't  argue  with  him.  Come,  let's  take  her!" 
cried  Paul. 

Sylvia,  with  her  arms  about  Nell,  had  now  re- 
treated into  a  far  corner  of  the  room. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  exclaimed  Wilson.  "This  is  my 
affair.  I'll  manage  this." 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  said  MacAuley,  in  a 
seemingly  bewildered  tone.  "Where  do  you  come 
in  ?  Are  you  a  police  officer  ?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply ;  "but  I  think  I  told  you  once 
before  to-day  that  I'm  Jim  Wilson,  the  politician." 


THE    LURE  277 


"That's  true,"  said  Bob.  "I  think  you  did  tell  me 
that." 

"Well,  this  boy  happens  to  belong  to  my  district," 
continued  Wilson  importantly.  "I  know  him,  and 
he's  a  friend  of  mine  and  he's  all  right.  And  I'm 
not  going  to  see  his  home  broken  up  by  any  out- 
sider." 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  stopping  to  argue  with 
him  ?"  cried  Paul  impatiently.  "Come  along !  Let's 
get  out  of  here.  We've  got  the  girl  out  of  his 
clutches.  Let's  go." 

"Shut  up,  now!"  cried  Wilson  sternly.  "You 
asked  me  to  come  here  with  you.  This  matter's  in 
my  hands  now,  and  I'm  going  to  see  it  through  to  a 
finish." 

He  turned  and  grinned  at  MacAuley  with  a  smile 
that  was  as  malignant  as  it  was  superior. 

"My  young  friend  here,"  continued  Wilson,  "has 
told  me  all  about  the  little  run-in  you  had  at  Miss 
Kate's  a  while  ago  after  I  left  you  there.  Of  course, 
I'm  not  saying  for  a  moment  that  you  were  not  do- 
ing the  right  thing  in  helping  a  woman  that  you 


278  THE    LURE 


thought  was  in  trouble.  Any  man  would  do  that. 
I've  often  done  it  myself.  But  you  didn't  under- 
stand it  was  only  a  little  family  squabble  they  was 
having.  It  didn't  amount  to  anything,  and  surely, 
young  man,  your  experience  even  in  the  gas  business 
should  have  taught  you  that  it's  only  a  damn  fool 
who  ever  dares  to  interfere  in  a  quarrel  between 
husband  and  wife." 

As  he  made  this  last  assertion,  Sylvia  and  Bob 
both  burst  out  laughing.  Poor  little  Nell's  face  be- 
came a  study  in  dismay. 

Paul  began  to  curse  vehemently  under  his  breath. 

"Then  I'm  to  understand  you  to  say  that  this 
young  man  here  is  Mrs.  Lockwood's  husband?" 

Paul  made  a  gesture  as  though  he  would  prevent 
Wilson  from  answering  the  question,  but  the  poli- 
tician, feeling  himself  entire  master  of  the  situation, 
went  blindly  on : 

"Why,  of  course,  they're  married.  What  did  you 
suppose — he  was  her  son  ?  That's  a  little  rough  on 
Miss  Kate,  isn't  it?  She  may  not  be  in  her  first 
flush  of  youth,  but  she  certainly  isn't  ancient  enough 


THE    LURE  279 


to  have  a  son  as  old  as  him.  Why,  I  fix  up  little 
scraps  like  that  between  husbands  and  wives 
every  day,  and  it  is  one  of  the  pleasures  of  my  life. 
They  live  happily  ever  after,  or  at  least  until  the 
next  family  war  breaks  out." 

"That's  quite  right,"  replied  MacAuley.  "But 
I'm  afraid  your  young  friend  here  has  rather  mixed 
you  up  regarding  the  facts.  The  row  which  took 
place  up  in  the  agency  was  not  on  account  of  Mrs. 
Lockwood  or  Mrs.  Lefarge,  as  we  properly  should 
call  her.  The  quarrel  was  all  about  these  two  young 
girls  here,  whom  the  Lockwood  woman  and  her 
husband" — as  he  spoke  the  words  "her  husband" 
Nell  buried  her  face  on  Sylvia's  shoulder  with  a  wail 
of  despair — "were  trying  to  restrain  by  force." 

"Well,  what  of  that?  What's  your  gas  company 
got  to  do  with  the  matter,  anyhow?  That's  what 
I'd  like  to  know.  Now  you've  been  entirely  too 
fresh  to-day,  young  man.  You've  gone  a  bit  be- 
yond yourself.  This  young  lady  here  is  an  old 
friend  of  both  Mr.  Lefarge  and  his  wife.  She's 
perfectly  willing  and  wants  to  go  back  to  them. 


280  THE    LURE 


And  she's  going.  What  the  devil  have  you  got  to 
say  about  it  ?" 

"That's  the  stuff,  Jim.  That's  the  way  to  talk  to 
him." 

"Keep  on  doing  things  like  this  and  the  first  thing 
you  know  you'll  be  getting  yourself  into  very  seri- 
ous trouble.  You  can't  continue  making  a  fool  of 
yourself  like  this,  because,  you  know,  you  won't  al- 
ways run  up  against  as  good-natured  an  antagonist 
as  I  am." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  MacAuley  smilingly,  "then  I'm 
to  understand  that  we  are  antagonists?  Do  I  get 
your  point?" 

Wilson  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  bored  sort  of 
way.  The  conversation  seemed  to  be  wearying  him. 

"Take  it  or  leave  it,  just  as  you  like.  Come  along, 
Paul.  Get  your  little  friend  there.  I  guess  we'll  be 
getting  on." 

"Just  a  moment,  please,"  said  MacAuley,  placing 
himself  between  Wilson  and  the  door. 

"Of  course,  you  know  the  reason  this  little  girl  is 
willing  to  go  away  with  your  friend  Lefarge  here?" 


THE    LURE  281 


Wilson  looked  blank  for  a  moment.  "Why,  cer- 
tainly. I  told  you  once  before,  didn't  I?  She's  a 
protegee  of  his  wife's." 

"She  is,  eh?"  replied  MacAuley.  "Then  how  do 
you  account  for  the  fact  that  he's  trying  to  take 
her  away  from  here  in  order  to  marry  her  in  half  an 
hour.  To  put  the  case  more  plainly,"  continued 
Bob,  "this  young  friend  of  yours  here,  this  Le- 
farge,"  continued  MacAuley,  "has  made  exactly  the 
same  promise  to  this  little  girl  that  he  made  to  that 
other  poor  little  girl,  the  late  Katherine  Baker  of 
Springfield,  whose  dead  body  you  are  going  to 
smuggle  out  to-night  from  the  establishment  of 
which  you're  a  half  owner." 

Wilson's  face  went  white.  "Who  the  hell  are 
you ?"  he  cried.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Bob,  with  slow 
emphasis.  "As  for  my  name,  perhaps  you  may  have 
heard  it  before.  It's  MacAuley." 

"Bob  MacAuley?"  cried  Wilson,  in  a  terror- 
stricken  tone.  "MacAuley,  the  federal  officer?" 


282  THE    LURE 


Paul  made  a  swift  dart  toward  the  door,  but  Bob 
intercepted  him : 

"Don't  get  excited  now.  What's  the  use?"  he 
said.  "We  may  as  well  all  tell  our  real  names  now." 

Wilson,  making  a  frantic  effort  to  pull  himself  to- 
gether, sought  refuge  in  his  usual  blustering  fa- 
miliarity. 

"Well,  this  really  is  a  surprise,  MacAuley.  I'm 
damned  glad  to  meet  you.  I've  heard  about  you 
often,  and " 

"Oh,  you  have  heard  about  me,  eh  ?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  replied  Wilson  blandly.  "A 
federal  officer  who  has  done  as  much  clever  work  as 
you  have  done  is  naturally ' 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  then,"  said  Bob  significantly. 
"We  won't  have  any  trouble  then,  will  we?" 

"Trouble?"  echoed  Wilson  in  a  blank  tone. 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  said,"  repeated  Bob  with  em- 
phasis. "Trouble." 

"Why,  of  course,  if  this  is  some  particular  case 
that  you're  working  on,  naturally  I  shan't  interfere. 
But  why  didn't  you  introduce  yourself  properly 


THE    LURE  283 


when  we  met  to-night?  If  I  had  known  who  you 
were  I  might  have  been  able  to  help  you." 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  Wilson,"  smiled  Bob, 
"I  thought  you  were  giving  me  a  good  deal  of  as- 
sistance as  it  was." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you'd  only  told  me. 
You'd  ought  to  have  known  my  reputation." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Bob  succinctly. 

"What  I  mean  is,  we  politicians  naturally  have 
got  to  keep  in  with  the  police.  We're  a  mutual  help 
to  each  other.  There's  many  and  many  a  big  de- 
tective mystery  to  which  Jim  Wilson  gave  the  de- 
tectives the  first  clue." 

"Yes,"  replied  Bob ;  "and  there's  many  and  many 
a  mystery  besides  that  Jim  Wilson  could  give  a  clue 
to.  In  fact,  which  he  could  solve  himself,  if  he 
wanted  to.  This  very  case,  that  I'm  working  on 
now.  The  kidnapping  and  death  of  this  poor,  little 
Springfield  girl.  I  am  relying  on  you,  you  know, 
Wilson,  to  give  me  nearly  all  the  facts  about  that. 
If  you  hadn't  called  on  me  so  informally  just  now 
I  should  have  dropped  in  on  you  later,  in  any  case. 


284  THE    LURE 


My  original  intention  was  to  arrest  Kate  and  Paul 
and  that  black  Hellion  of  a  maid  of  hers,  but,  as 
you've  walked  right  into  my  trap  of  your  own  ac- 
cord, I  don't  see  why  it  wouldn't  be  better  perhaps 
to  get  the  painful  ordeal  over  now." 

While  he  was  speaking  Paul  had  been  edging  his 
way  toward  the  fire  escape.  Lifting  the  curtain  he 
dropped  it  quickly  with  a  half -stifled  cry.  Turning 
suddenly,  before  Wilson  could  rally  or  reply  to  his 
last  remark,  Bob  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to 
Paul: 

"I  wouldn't  try  to  go  out  there  if  I  were  you,  Le- 
farge.  The  men  out  there  have  orders  to  shoot  any 
one  who  goes  out  by  that  route.  I  had  you  particu- 
larly in  mind  when  I  gave  them  that  order." 

Wilson  pulled  himself  together  for  his  final  bluff. 

"Well,  I  guess  there's  nothing  more  for  me  to 
do  here.  I  think  I'll  be  going." 

As  he  made  the  remark  he  looked  at  Bob  some- 
what apprehensively,  as  though  fearing  he  would 
make  an  effort  to  stop  him  leaving  the  room.  But 
MacAuley  made  no  protest. 


THE    LURE  285 


Wilson  put  on  his  hat  and  threw  open  the  door 
to  find  himself  confronted  by  six  plain-clothes  men. 

Paul,  who  had  followed  close  on  Wilson's  heels, 
at  sight  of  the  detectives  turned  back  to  MacAuley 
as  his  last  resort. 

"Well,  I'm  leaving  the  girl  here,  ain't  I?  You 
don't  want  me  for  anything,  do  you  ?" 

"What's  your  own  opinion  about  that?"  asked 
MacAuley  sternly. 

Lefarge  gave  no  answer,  but  Wilson,  turning  to 
Paul  again,  said :  "I  don't  see  why  you  want  either 
of  us.  He  hasn't  violated  any  Government  law,  has 
he?" 

"Don't  you  know  ?"  said  Bob  sharply. 

"How  should  I  ?"  exclaimed  Wilson. 

"Politicians  and  policemen  often  know  a  lot  of 
things  they're  not  supposed  to,"  retorted  Paul. 

Wilson  made  a  ghastly  effort  to  laugh.  "Say, 
you're  a  great  kidder,  aren't  you,  MacAuley  ?  You 
stalled  me  for  fair  to-night  when  you  said  you  was 
the  gas-man." 

"Well,  if  it  comes  to  that,"  laughed  Bob,  "you 


286  THE    LURE 


must  remember,  Wilson,  you're  something  of  a 
staller  yourself." 

"How's  that?"  asked  Wilson  surlily. 

"Well,  for  instance,"  said  Bob,  "let  me  ask  you  a 
question:  Did  you  catch  your  burglar?" 

Wilson  gave  a  sickly  smile.  "You  make  me  tired," 
he  snarled.  "What  are  you  driving  at,  anyway  ?'" 

"At  the  White  Slavers  as  usual,"  cried  MacAuley 
with  flashing  eyes. 

"What's  that  to  me?"  exclaimed  Wilson. 

"Well,  since  you  ask,  I'm  going  to  tell  you.  With 
all  your  experience,  Wilson,  you  ought  to  know  the 
best  way  to  break  up  a  White  Slave  gang  is  to  find 
the  silent  political  partner  with  a  pull  behind  the 
house.  And  I  found  him." 

Again  Wilson  tried  to  bluster.  "Look  here,  Mac- 
Auley, do  you  mean  to  insinuate " 

"I  don't  insinuate,  I  declare,"  cried  MacAuley, 
"that  you  own  a  half  interest  in  Kate  Lockwood's 
dive  where  Paul  and  his  kind  have  ruined  at  least 
a  hundred  girls  in  the  last  two  years !" 

"Why,  you're  a " 


THE    LURE  287 


"Don't  say  it,"  replied  MacAuley.  "Remember 
there  are  ladies  present." 

Wilson  gulped  and  with  that  gulp  he  swallowed 
his  last  trace  of  defiance. 

"You  mean  to  say  you'd  insinuate  a  thing  like 
that  to  me?"  he  exclaimed  in  what  was  now  only 
an  injured  tone. 

"I  don't  insinuate  anything,  I  declare  facts,  and 
I'm  going  to  prove  them,  by  God !" 

"Like  h 1  you  are!"  cried  Wilson  in  a  weak, 

thin  voice.  "I  suppose  you  think  I  haven't  any  in- 
fluence down  at  Washington.  Why,  you  cheap  bum 
detective,  I'll  make  it  cost  you  your  job.  I'll  have 
you  fired  inside  of  twenty- four  hours!" 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Bob. 

"Well,  don't  you  worry  about  that,  I'll  do  it  all 
right." 

"Then  you'll  be  doing  me  a  real  favor.  It  is  the 
only  possible  way  I  can  get  a  vacation." 

Turning  from  Wilson  for  the  moment  MacAuley 
glared  at  Paul. 


288  THE    LURE 


"Come  over  here,  you !"  he  exclaimed  to  the  cow- 
ering figure  by  the  table. 

Lefarge  obeyed  him  instantly. 

"But  wait  a  minute,"  cried  Wilson  suddenly. 
"How  do  we  know  that  you  are  MacAuley  after  all  ? 
Let  me  see  your  badge  if  you've  got  one." 

Again  MacAuley  smiled  derisively.  "You're  great 
on  making  me  show  up,  aren't  you  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

He  handed  his  official  badge  to  Wilson. 

"I  borrowed  the  other  one  from  the  gas  com- 
pany," he  said.  "But  this  one  really  belongs  to  me. 
For  six  months  I've  been  wanting  to  show  it  to 
you." 

There  wasn't  an  ounce  of  fight  left  in  Wilson  by 
this  time.  His  voice  was  almost  cringing  as  he 
said :  "This  is  no  place  for  us  to  talk  about  such  a 
serious  matter,  Mr.  MacAuley.  Come  on  down  to 
my  clubhouse  for  a  few  minutes.  The  boy'll  come 
along  without  any  trouble.  If  you'll  just  come  down 
there  as  a  favor  to  me  I'll  convince  you  mighty 
quick  that  some  one's  been  lying  about  me  to  you." 

"Prove  that  to  the  jury,"  said  MacAuley,  and 


PAUL  TURNED   ON   HIM   VENOMOUSLY.     "MY   PALS   *LL  GET   YOU   FOR  THIS!"      p.    289 


THE   LURE  289 


turning  quickly  to  Lefarge,  who  now  stood  trem- 
bling beside  him,  he  whisked  out  a  pair  of  hand- 
cuffs from  his  pocket  and  snapped  one  on  Paul's 
wrist. 

Then,  seizing  Paul  by  the  arm,  he  held  one  of  his 
hands  up  that  both  the  girls  and  Wilson  might  see. 

"Soft  and  white,  isn't  it?"  he  sneered.  "A  fine 
hand  for  playing  the  piano  and  beating  up  young 
girls." 

Paul  turned  on  him  venomously.  "My  pals'll  get 
you  for  this !" 

Ignoring  this  threat  entirely,  MacAuley  turned  to 
Wilson  with  a  stern  "Come  on !" 

Wilson  went  red,  then  white  again. 

"You're  not  going  to  put  any  handcuffs  on  me  ?" 

"I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  play  favorites,"  said 
Bob. 

"By  God !  you  shan't  do  it,"  cried  Wilson,  trying 
vainly  to  snatch  his  hand  away  from  MacAuley's 
grasp. 

"Which  is  it  to  be,"  said  MacAuley  ominously, 
"the  station  house  or  the  hospital  ?" 


290  THE    LURE 


"Ah,  but  there's  no  need  of  that,  man!"  pleaded 
Wilson.  "I  won't  try  to  run.  Why,  I'm  a  man  of 
standing  in  this  town,  you  know  that.  I've  got  a 
family.  God  knows,  MacAuley,  it  won't  do  you  any 
good  to  disgrace  them.  Think  of  my  daughters !" 

"Ah,  you've  hit  it  at  last,  Wilson!"  cried  Bob 
furiously.  "That's  just  what  I  am  thinking  of — 
other  men's  daughters.  Come  on,  Jim!"  he  ex- 
claimed, as  he  snapped  the  other  handcuff  on  Wil- 
son's wrist  and  handed  the  two  prisoners  over  to  the 
detectives  at  the  door,  "it's  pay  day !" 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

At  half -past  six  the  next  morning  MacAuley 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  doctor's  room.  He 
looked  haggard  and  weary,  but  for  all  that  there  was 
a  gleam  of  enthusiasm  in  his  eyes  which  showed  that 
for  him  at  all  events  the  night's  work  had  not  been 
without  its  triumphant  results.  In  his  arms  as  he 
entered  the  doctor's  room  he  carried  a  flower  pot 
containing  a  red  geranium  as  near  a  replica  as  possi- 
ble of  the  one  which  he  had  broken  on  Sylvia's  win- 
dow sill  the  day  before. 

"Here  I  am  again,  doctor,  you  see!"  exclaimed 
MacAuley  jokingly.  "Hope  I  didn't  wake  you  up. 
I  haven't  been  to  bed  at  all  yet,  but  then  I'm  used  to 
that.  However,  I  wanted  to  consult  you  about  one 
thing.  Do  you  think  it's  too  early  for  me  to  call  up- 
stairs?" 

"Vy  no,"  said  the  doctor.     "De  people  of  the 

tenements  are  early  risers.     Sylvia's  been  up  for 

about  a  half  an  hour,  getting  her  mother's  breakfast. 

I  was  up  there  only  a  moment  ago.    De  oder  little 

291 


292  THE    LURE 


girl  seems  to  be  all  quiet  and  content  now.  She's 
still  fast  asleep  on  the  sofa  in  Mrs.  Jones'  room." 

"Then  I'd  better  go  up  right  away,"  said  Bob. 
"This  will  give  me  a  chance  to  have  a  few  moments 
alone  with  Sylvia.  It'll  be  the  only  chance  I'll  have 
to-day.  I've  got  such  a  load  of  things  to  do." 

"Go  ahead,  my  boy.  Von  thing  sure,  she'll  be 
mighty  glad  to  see  you.  But  tell  me  vat  happened 
last  night?  How  did  you  and  your  White  Slaver 
friends  get  on  ?  Dot  vas  just  like  my  luck.  It  took  me 
so  long  to  find  that  headache  powder  for  the  little 
girl  I  missed  all  the  excitement  down  here.  Vhile  I 
vas  upstairs  my  rooms — they  become  historical  and 
I  ain't  here  to  see  it." 

"Well,  you  can  read  all  about  it  in  to-day's 
papers,"  laughed  MacAuley.  "Seems  to  me  there's 
nothing  at  all  in  any  of  them  to-day,  except  the  case 
of  the  little  Springfield  girl  and  the  arrest  of  Wilson. 
His  trial  is  going  to  make  this  town  hum." 

"Vat  about  the  voman — dat  Mrs.  Lockwood? 
Did  you  catch  her  yet  ?" 

"No,  not  yet ;  perhaps  we  won't.    I'm  satisfied  to 


THE    LURE  293 


have  Wilson  and  Lefarge  and  that  black  devil  Car- 
rie. The  woman,  bad  as  she  is,  isn't  necessary  to 
prove  our  case  against  those  two.  They're  bound  to 
go  up  the  river  for  sure.  You  see,  if  I  arrested  her 
just  now  it's  just  possible  that  Sylvia  might  have  to 
be  dragged  in  as  a  witness  against  her,  and,  God 
knows,  I  wouldn't  have  that  happen  for  the  world. 
Fortunately,  the  Charlotte  Baker  case  is  so  strong 
in  itself  that  this  little  Nell  girl  won't  have  to  be 
dragged  in  either.  I  shall  send  her  home  to  her 
people  to-night  or  to-morrow,  as  soon  as  she's 
rested  and  well  enough  to  travel.  There's  no  use 
or  necessity  of  bringing  her  into  the  case." 

"Dot's  good,"  said  the  doctor.  "I'm  glad  of  that." 
"Before  I  forget  it,  there's  another  thing,  doctor. 
I've  just  been  talking  with  a  friend  of  mine,  .a  doc- 
tor who's  at  the  head  of  a  private  hospital  uptown. 
I've  engaged  a  private  room  there  for  Sylvia's 
mother.  They'll  send  foi  her  to-morrow.  If  any 
surgeon  in  town  can  pull  the  old  lady  through,  my 
friend  can.  There's  something  else  I  want  to  talk 


294  THE    LURE 


to  you  about,  doctor,"  Bob  went  on  laughingly,  "but 
I'll  have  to  speak  to  Sylvia  about  it  first,  you  know." 

"Den  go  ahead,  young  man,  don't  lose  one  minute. 
Dose  good  peoples  upstairs  need  all  the  good  tidings 
they  can  get." 

Sylvia  was  alone  in  the  room  when  he  entered. 
He  walked  directly  to  the  window  sill  and  laid  the 
flower  pot  on  the  ledge. 

"I've  kept  my  promise,  you  see,  Miss  Sylvia,"  he 
laughed.  "Here's  the  geranium." 

"Thank  you!  thank  you!"  exclaimed  Sylvia  hur- 
riedly. "Don't  let's  talk  about  the  flower  now.  Tell 
me  what  happened  last  night  when  you  left.  I've 
scarcely  been  able  to  sleep  a  wink  thinking  of  all 
you  must  be  going  through." 

"Well,  as  long  as  you  were  thinking  about  me, 
Miss  Sylvia,  I'll  forgive  you  for  that,"  he  exclaimed 
with  a  droll  smile.  "But  nothing  of  any  importance 
happened.  Anyway,  don't  let's  talk  about  it  now 
when  there  are  so  many  much  more  important  things 
you  and  I  must  discuss.  I  can  only  stay  a  few  mo- 
ments, though.  I've  got  to  be  uptown  at  my  rooms 


THE    LURE  295 


at  eight  o'clock  to  install  my  new  housekeeper.  You 
see,  I've  been  a  bachelor  so  long  that  my  rooms  have 
grown  very  bare  and  unhome-like.  I  want  a 
woman's  hands  to  give  them  a  homelike  touch  before 
I  bring  any  of  my  new  friends  there,  so  I  engaged  a 
housekeeper  last  night.  She's  a  dear,  sweet,  moth- 
erly little  creature.  I  think  you'll  like  her  very  much 
when  you  meet,  and  I'm  sure  that  your  mother  and 
she  will  become  real  friends." 

Sylvia  looked  up  at  him  a  little  bewildered.  "A 
housekeeper?  And  you  engaged  her  last  night? 
What  a  busy  man  you  are.  When  on  earth  did  you 
get  time  yesterday  to  engage  a  housekeeper,  I  should 
like  to  know?" 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  engagement  was  an  ac- 
cident. It  came  in,  however,  as  part  of  the  day's 
work.  It  came  about  rather  curiously,  though,  so 
I'm  going  to  tell  you,  if  you  don't  mind.  It  just  goes 
to  show  you  what  a  funny  thing  human  nature  is  at 
either  its  best  or  worst." 

"Do  tell  me  about  it — do  tell  me  about  it,"  said 
Sylvia. 


296  THE   LURE 


"Well,"  says  he,  "when  I  left  here  for  the  first 
time  last  night,  after  finding  you  again  in  such  an 
unexpected  way,  I  was  all  up  in  the  air  with  delight, 
as  you  can  imagine.  I  took  a  taxi  and  drove  directly 
to  the  Lock  wood  employment  agency.  I  joined  one 
of  my  assistants  on  the  corner  and  was  going  to 
watch  the  house,  hoping  to  pick  up  Lefarge's  trail 
there,  when  all  of  a  sudden  after  we  had  been  stand- 
ing on  the  corner  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the 
sweetest  faced  little  old  lady  you  ever  saw  came  out 
of  the  agency  door.  A  taxi  was  waiting,  and  Carrie, 
the  colored  girl,  came  down  the  steps  with  her  and 
helped  her  into  it.  Then  I  heard  Carrie  speak  to  the 
driver  and  tell  him  to  drive  to  a  well-known  wom- 
an's hotel.  It  struck  me  as  such  a  curious  thing  for 
such  an  old  lady  of  her  type  to  be  coming  out  of 
Lockwood's  at  such  an  hour  that  I  called  a  taxi  and 
followed  her  to  the  hotel.  I  saw  her  sign  the  regis- 
ter and  take  the  elevator  up  to  her  room.  Her  name 
on  the  register  was  Miss  Cecelia  Bliss  of  Albany.  I 
thought  perhaps  I  might  be  able  to  squeeze  some  in- 
formation out  of  her  about  what  had  been  going  on 


THE    LURE  297 


at  the  agency,  so  I  sent  up  my  name  and  asked  for 
an  interview.  Word  came  back  that  there  must  be 
some  mistake,  that  Miss  Bliss  didn't  know  any  one 
of  my  name.  In  fact,  didn't  know  any  one  in  New 
York.  When  I  got  that  message,  I  decided  that  I 
must  see  her.  So  then  I  sent  word  to  her  again  that 
I  had  a  message  for  her  from  Mrs.  Lockwood.  She 
came  down  to  the  reception  room.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  her.  Her  sweet  old,  wrinkled  face  was 
fairly  beaming  with  delight. 

"  'Oh,  you've  come  about  that  position  for  me, 
haven't  you?'  she  exclaimed,  before  I  could  get  a 
word  out  of  my  mouth  or  attempt  to  make  any  ex- 
cuse. 'God  bless  that  dear  Mrs.  Lockwood!'  she 
went  on.  'She  promised  to  get  me  a  good  position, 
but  I  never  dreamed  she'd  fulfill  her  promise  so 
soon.  Why,  it  isn't  half  an  hour  since  I  left  her,' 
and  then  bit  by  bit  she  went  on,  Sylvia,  and  told  me 
her  whole  story.  Her  two  young  nephews,  with 
whom  she'd  always  lived  in  Albany,  sailed  yesterday 
to  meet  their  father  somewhere  in  the  Orient.  They 
had  neglected  to  leave  her  any  money.  The  poor, 


298  THE    LURE 


little  woman  was  stone  broke,  had  less  than  a  dollar 
and  a  half  in  her  purse  when  she  happened  to  see 
the  agency  sign  and  went  in  there  to  ask  for  em- 
ployment. Then  she  went  on  and  told  me  how  kind 
Mrs.  Lockwood  had  been  to  her,  how,  when  she 
found  out  she  had  no  money  and  no  place  to  go,  she 
made  her  take  a  ten-dollar  bill  and  engaged  a  room 
at  the  hotel  for  her.  Can  you  beat  that,  Sylvia, 
coming  from  that  woman?" 

"Well,  what  did  you  do  then?"  exclaimed  Sylvia, 
intensely  interested. 

"What  could  I  do  ?  I  couldn't  break  the  poor  old 
lady's  heart,  so  I  told  her  yes,  I  had  come  to  see  her 
about  a  position." 

"Yes  ?    And  then  ?"  queried  Sylvia. 

"Then  I  told  her  that  I  was  a  bachelor  with  an 
apartment  which  had  all  gone  to  rack  and  ruin.  I 
wanted  some  one  to  make  it  shipshape — to  put  my 
house  in  order,  as  it  were — because — now,  remem- 
ber, this  is  just  what  I  told  her,  Sylvia — I  was  going 
to  be  married  inside  of  the  next  three  days  and  when 
I  bring  my  wife  to  my  apartments  I  want  her  to  feel 


THE    LURE  299 


that  she's  really  coming  to  a  home.  So,  you  see,  it's 
all  settled,  Sylvia,"  he  went  on  hurriedly  without  giv- 
ing her  a  chance  to  interject  a  word.  "Miss  Bliss  has 
taken  charge  of  everything  this  morning.  To-mor- 
row at  ten  o'clock  the  clergyman  will  be  here  to 
marry  us.  Arranged  for  him  to  come  at  that  early 
hour  purposely,  because  at  noon  your  mother  goes 
to  the  private  hospital  of  a  friend  of  mine  for  that 
operation,  and  I  knew  that  it  would  be  a  comfort 
and  solace  to  her  for  her  to  know  when  she  went 
there  that  no  matter  what  happened  you  had  a  home 
and  husband;  in  other  words,  dear,  that  you  were 
safe." 

Tears  were  running  down  Sylvia's  cheeks  as  she 
started  to  answer  him,  but  again  he  interrupted  her  : 
"Not  a  word  now — not  a  word,  Sylvia.  It's  all  set- 
tled— it's  all  fixed.  There's  just  one  little  thing,  one 
little  favor  more  I  want  to  ask  you." 

"What  is  it?"  said  Sylvia,  with  a  break  in  her 
voice. 

He  turned  toward  the  mantelpiece  and  pointed  to 
a  cabinet-sized  photograph  of  Sylvia.  "It's  that 


300  THE    LURE 


photograph  of  you,"  he  said  tenderly.  "It's  just  the 
size  to  fit  my  vacant  frame.  I  measured  it  yesterday 
when  you  weren't  looking.  I  don't  think  I  ever  told 
you  about  that  frame,  did  I,  Sylvia  ?  The  buying  of 
it  was  the  one  sentimental  thing  I  was  ever  guilty  of 
in  my  life.  I  bought  it  the  day  that  I  saw  you  first, 
and  I  made  a  solemn  vow  to  it  then,  as  I  placed  it  on 
my  mantelpiece,  that  it  should  never  hold  any  pic- 
ture except  the  photograph  of  Sylvia,  my  wife.  So 
you  won't  mind  giving  it  to  me,  will  you?" 

For  answer  she  took  the  photo  from  the  mantel- 
piece and  placed  it  in  his  outstretched  hand.  She 
had  no  time  to  speak  a  word  to  him,  for  at  that  mo- 
ment from  the  bedroom  came  her  mother's  voice, 
crying:  "Sylvia!  Sylvia!  I  hear  a  man's  voice. 
Whom  are  you  talking  to  ?" 

For  answer  Sylvia  threw  her  arms  about  Bob's 
neck  and  kissed  him,  then  leading  him  into  the  bed- 
room to  her  mother's  side  she  exclaimed:  "Don't 
worry,  mother  dear,  it's  Mr.  MacAuley,  your  new 
son." 

THE  END 


NEW  and  POPULAR  BOOKS 

GODDESS  OF  THE  DAWN 

By  MARGARET  DAVTES  SULLIVAN.  The  spirit  of  youth  and  lightsome  joy 
permeates  this  story  of  pure,  exulting  womanhood.  The  dominant 
love  episode  of  Doris  with  a  high-minded  sculptor,  struggling  to  retrieve 
his  father's  sin;  her  revolt  against  marriage  to  Chapman  and  her  brief 
union  with  weak,  handsome  Arthur  make  a  love  story  par  excellence.  It 
depicts  love  as  it  really  comes^and  molds  and  mars.  Its  happy  ending 
tells  how  it  rewards.  i2mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  Net  $1.25. 

FLYING  U  RANCH 

By  B.  M.  BOWER.  The  best  Bower  story  since  "Chip  of  the  Flying  U." 
Here  we  have  the  well  known  characters  of  Chip;  Pink;  Andy  Green; 
Irish;  Weary;  Big  Medicine;  the  Countess;  the  Little  Doctor;  the  Kid 
and  a  newcomer — Miguel  Rapponi.  How  the  Flying  U  was  harassed 
by  the  sheep  herders  and  how  "the  bunch"  wins  out,  completes  a  story 
without  a  peer  in  the  realm  of  Western  fiction. 

i2mo.    Cloth.    Illustrated.     Net  $1.25. 

THE  LUBE 

By  GEORGE  SCARBOROUGH.  Founded  upon  his  great  play  that  aroused 
such  wide-spread  controversy,  the  book  tells  of  a  secret  service  officer's 
investigations  into  the  White  Slave  traffic;  of  his  discovery  of  the  girl  he 
loved  in  a  disreputable  employment  agency  and  of  her  dramatic  rescue. 
A  true  situation,  depicted  boldly  and  frankly  but  without  pruriency. 
i2mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated  from  scenes  in  the  play.  Net  $1.25. 

THE  WASP 

By  THEODORE  GOODRIDGE  ROBERTS.  A  picturesque  tale  of  an  English 
pirate  whose  depredations  on  the  high  seas  were  so  ferocious  that  he  was 
called  The  Wasp  because  of  the  keenness  of  his  sting.  Glutted  with  looting, 
he  enlists  in  the  navy  and  gives  up  his  life  defending  his  country's  flag. 
A  love  story  with  the  winsome  Kitty  Trimmer  for  its  heroine  lends  a  fas- 
cinating charm  to  the  narrative.  i2mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  Net  $1.25 

THE  PRICE 

BY  GEORGE  BROADHURST  and  ARTHUR  HORNBLOW,  authors  of  "Bought 
and  Paid  For. "  Founded  upon  the  play,  this  is  a  powerful  story  of  a  woman's 
desperate  struggle  to  save  her  reputation  and  her  happiness.  How  she 
tries  to  sink  the  memory  of  a  foolish  entanglement  with  another  woman's 
husband  in  her  own  marriage  with  the  man  she  really  loved  and  how  she 
paid  the  subsequent  bitter  price  of  her  folly  forms  a  dramatic  theme  of 
deep  human  interest. 

i2mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated  with  scenes  from  play.    Net  $1.25. 

MATTHEW  FERGUSON 

By  MARGARET  BLAKE,  author  of  "The  Greater  Joy;"  "The  Voice  of  the 
Heart."  How  the  hero,  by  virtue  of  a  self-evolved,  infallible  system, 
speedily  climbs  to  the  top  of  his  profession  in  New  York;  how  he  saves  the 
woman  he  loves  from  a  fate  worse  than  death,  and  then,  to  save  his  honor, 
discards  the  system  that  made  his  success,  forms  a  vividly  realistic  and 
powerful  story. izmo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  Net  $1.25. 


Books  by  Edward   Marshall 

BAT— An  Idyl  of  New  York 

"The  heroine  has  all  the  charm  of  Thackeray's  Marchioness  in 
New  York  surroundings." — New  York  Sun.  "  It  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  more  charming,  cheerful  story." — New  York  Times.  "Alto- 
gether delightful." — Buffalo  Express.  "The  comedy  is  delicious." 
— Sacramento  Union.  "  It  is  as  wholesome  and  fresh  as  the  breath 
of  springtime." — New jOrleans  Picayune,  izmo,  doth.  Illustrated. 
$1.00  net. 

THE  MIDDLE  WALL 

The  Albany  Times-Union  says  of  this  story  of  the  South  African 
diamond  mines  and  adventures  in  London,  on  the  sea  and  in 
America:  "As  a  story  teller  Mr.  Marshall  cannot  be  improved 
upon,  and  whether  one  is  looking  for  humor,  philosophy,  pathos, 
wit,  excitement,  adventure  or  love,  he  will  find  what  he  seeks, 
aplenty,  in  this  capital  tale."  I2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  *o  cents. 

BOOKS  NOVELIZED  FROM  GREAT  PLAYS 

THE  MASTER  OF  THE  HOUSE 

From  the  successful  play  of  EDGAR  JAMES.  Embodying  a  won- 
derful message  to  both  husbands  and  wives,  it  tells  how  a  deter- 
mined man,  of  dominating  personality  and  iron  will,  leaves  a  faithful 
wife  for  another  woman,  ismo,  cloth.  Illustrated  from  scenes  ir 
the  play.  Net  $1.25. 

THE  WRITING  ON  THE  WALL 

The  Rocky  Mountain  News : ' '  This  novelization  of  OLGA  NETHER. 
SOLE'S  play  tells  of  Trinity  Church  and  its  tenements.  It  is  a 
powerful,  vital  novel."  i2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  OLD  FLUTE  PLAYER 

Based  on  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  play,  this  story  won  the 
friendship  of  the  country  very  quickly.  The  Albany  Times-Union! 
' '  Charming  enough  to  become  a  classic."  i  amo,  cloth.  Illustrated. 
50  cents. 

THE  FAMILY 

Of  this  book  (founded  on  the  play  by  ROBERT  HOB  ART  DAVIS), 
The  Portland  (Oregon)  Journal  said:  "Nothing  more  powerful  has 
recently  been  put  between  the  covers  of  a  book."  i2mo,  cloth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  SPENDTHRIFT 

The  Logansport  (Ind.)  Journal :  "A  tense  story,  founded  on  PORTER 
EMERSON  BROWNE'S  play,  is  full  of  tremendous  situations, 
and  preaches  a  great  sermon."  i2mo,  cloth  bound,  with  six  illus- 
trations from  scenes  in  the  play.  50  cents. 

IN  OLD  KENTUCKY 

Based  upon  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  well-known  play,  which  has 
been  listened  to  with  thrilling  interest  by  over  seven  million  people. 
"A  new  and  powerful  novel,  fascinating  in  its  rapid  action.  Its 
touching  story  is  told  more  elaborately  and  even  more  absorbingly 
than  it  was  upon  the  stage." — Nashville  American,  izmo,  cloth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 


By  ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 

The  Talker  just  issued 

An  impeachment  of  the  attitude  of  many   women  with  regard  to  "*»« 

sacredneu  of  the  marriage  tie — From  the  play  of 

MARION  FAIRFAX. 

A  poignantly  affecting  story,  deeply  arresting  in  its  significance. 

Kindling  4th  Large  EvHtio* 

A  story  of  mother-love  in  the  tenement*) — From  the  Play  of 
CHARLES  KENYON. 

"A  dramatic  and  interesting  story  from  the  powerful  and  unusual  play." — Buffalo  Express. 

Bought    and    Paid    For  5th  Large  Edition 

A  tremendous   arraignment  of  the  mercenary  marriage — From  •the  play  of 

GEORGE  BRO ADHURST. 

"The  story  is  intensely  human  in  its  serious  side  and  delightfully  amusing  in  its  lighter 
phases."  — Boston  Globe. 

The  Gamblers  85th  Thousand 

A  dramatic  story  of  American  life,  from  the  wonderful  play  of  Charles  Klein. 
"A  powerful  indictment  of  the  methods  of  modem  finance." — Philadelphia  Prat. 

The   Easiest   Way  6th  Large  Edition 

A  vivid  story  of  metropolitan  life  from  Eugene  Walter's  thrilling  play. 

"The  easiest  way  is  in  reality  the  hardest  way." — ^Boston  Time*. 

John   Marsh's   Millions  6th  Large  Edition 

The  struggle  of  a  young  girl,  heiress  to  millions. 
"Has  many  thrilling  dramatic  situations." — St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch. 

Fhe  Third  Degree  ?oth  Thousand 

A  brilliant  novelization  of  Charles  Klein's  great  play. 

"A  strongly-painted  picture  of  certain  condition*  in  the  administration  of  law  and 
justice."  — Philadelphia  Record. 

By  Right  of  Conquest  tooth  Thousand 

A  thrilling  story  of  shipwreck  upon  a  deserted  island. 

"A  sensational  situation  handled  with  delicacy  and  vigor." — Boston  Transcript. 

The  End  of  the  Game  ?sth  Thousand 

A  love  story  dealing  with  the  perils  of  great  wealth. 

"A  thoroughly  wholesome  book,  with  action  in  the  drama  and  real  human  interest'* 

—LUerani  DigaL 

The  Profligate  eoth  Thousand 

A  thrilling  story  of  lore,  mystery  and  adventure. 
'The  natal  tone  of  the  story  b  excellent."  —Baltimore  Smn. 

The  Lion  and  the  Mouse  200th  Thousand 

A  brilliant  novelization  of  Charles  Klein's  wonderful  play. 
" Ai  fascastinc  as  Mi.  Klein  «  pky.~— Boston  Tranter  H*. 


Nine  Splendid  Novels  by 

WILLIAM  MacLEOD  RAINE 

THE  PIRATE  OF  PANAMA 

A  tale  of  old-time  pirates  and  of  modern  love,  hate  and  adventure.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  San  Francisco  on  board  The  Argus  and  in  Panama.  A  ro- 
mantic search  for  the  lost  pirate  gold.  An  absorbing  love-story  runs  through 
the  book. 

istno,  Cloth,  Jacket  in  Colors.    Net  $1.25. 
THE  VISION  SPLENDID 

A  powerful  story  in  which  a  man  of  big  ideas  and  fine  ideals  wars  against 
graft  and  corruption.  A  most  satisfactory  love  affair  terminates  the  story. 

12 mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.     Net  $1.25. 
CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

A  story  of  Arizona;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws;  of  a  bitter  feud 
between  cattle-men  and  sheep-herders.  The  heroine  is  a  most  unusual  woman 
and  her  love-story  reaches  a  culmination  that  is  fittingly  characteristic  of  the 
great  free  West. 

I2mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition  50  cents. 
BRAND   BLOTTERS 

A  story  of  the  Cattle  Range.  This  story  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the 
frontier  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor  with  a  charming  love  interest 
running  through  its  320  pages. 

izmo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.  Jacket  in  Colors.    Popular  Edition  50  cents. 
•MAVERICKS" 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "rustler,"  whose  depredations  are 
so  keenly  resented  by  the  early  settlers  of  the  range,  abounds.  One  of  the 
sweetest  love  stories  ever  told. 

izmo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents. 
A  TEXAS  RANGER 

How  a  member  of  the  most  dauntless  border  police  force  carried  law  into 
the  mesquit,  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man  after  a  series  of  thrilling  adven- 
tures, followed  a  fugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then  passed  through  deadly  peril 
to  ultvmate  happiness. 

I2mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents. 
WYOMING 

In  this  vivid  story  of  the  outdoor  West  the  author  has  captured  the  breezy 
charm  of  "cattleland,"  and  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  all 
its  engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

I2tno,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents. 
RIDGWAY   OF  MONTANA 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  politics  and  mining 

industries  are  the  religion  of  the  country.     The  political  contest,  the  love 

scene,  and  the  fine  character  drawing  give  this  story  great  strength  and  charm. 

I2mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents. 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  replete  with  the 
dashing  spirit  of  the  border,  told  with  dramatic  dash  and  absorbing  fascina- 
tion of  style  and  plot. 

ismo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents. 


111  mmiwi  Mill  III ||  III ||  dill  III l|  Kill    11(1 

A     000110156    7 


